


The Storm at the End of the World

by morningstar115



Series: Bernicia [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Family, Friendship, Gen, Multi, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 32,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26060257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morningstar115/pseuds/morningstar115
Summary: First, the earthquakes begin. Bizarre weather phenomena follow, then the gradual collapse of everything Garth Barclay, his sister, and their young cousins have ever known.Or perhaps not. As magic reemerges into a broken world, ancient memories begin to surface, and familiar faces start appearing, the return of the Once and Future King is surely at hand.Centuries ago, they all fought for Albion. Now, the future of the Earth itself may be at stake.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Bernicia [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1263179
Comments: 32
Kudos: 11





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So...The real world is insane right now, and I have retreated somewhat to my happy place: the world of Merlin. I work full-time now so I can make no promises on how fast I can finish this fic, but...I think it'll be fun. Hope you enjoy :)  
> Takes place very much in the same universe as my "Bernicia" AU.

“I think it’s time for me to disappear.”

Caldwell Barclayn looked up from his book, frowning at his old mentor. “Disappear?”

Old Merlin, sometimes known as Emrys, sometimes known as Dragoon, sighed and sat down heavily, his gaze wandering over his expansive chambers filled with books and magical artifacts. “Arthur’s been dead for years. Llacheu is king. Gwen is dying. All of the old knights here save Leon are gone, and he won’t last much longer. And I’m tired. I cannot die, yet I’m so tired.” His laugh came out dry and creaking. “It’s time for me to go, Cal.”

The other man’s dark eyes were sorrowful, but his voice remained level as he asked, “Go where?”

“Somewhere far away. Somewhere no one knows my name. Somewhere I can rest for a while.”

However, the warlock did not leave Camelot in that year.

* * *

Beloved Queen Guinevere passed, and Merlin took one last trip up north to Bernicia with Caldwell. Hayden Wyverndomitor had long ago followed his wife into the afterlife, leaving the three or four living descendants of his wyverns in the hands of his son and daughter’s families. King Everard had died the previous year, the last of his siblings to pass, and his oldest son Aldwyn sat upon the throne.

Gwaine, former knight of Camelot, present lord and knight of Bernicia, and the man once called Strength was on his deathbed when Merlin arrived. “Not how I expected to go, honestly,” he croaked out to the warlock. “Thought I’d die in battle like Arthur.”

Merlin managed a smile and murmured a spell, just a simple one to ease the dying man’s pain. Gwaine noticed and grinned, “Still up to those tricks.”

They talked for a while about the old days, then Merlin stepped aside to allow Gwaine’s children to have some time with him. Before he left, his friend grabbed his arm. “You’re a good friend, Merlin. The best. Always have been.”

Blinking back tears, the warlock whispered, “You too, Gwaine. You too.”

Sir Gwaine died in his sleep with his son, daughter, and closest friend by his side. All in all, it was not a bad way to go.

Merlin returned home, the last of the Trio and wearier than he’d ever felt, even more so than when Arthur had died at Mordred’s hand. Then, at least the sheer anger and pain had made the tiredness bearable.

He remained in Camelot until Sir Leon took his last breath, then departed with nothing more than a few words of advice to King Llacheu. None of his old friends were left there now.

* * *

Camelot fell mere decades later, and the Golden Age of Albion passed into legend. Merlin, out traveling the world, heard the tidings and did not return.

He even stopped talking to Aithusa.

* * *

Hundreds of years passed before Merlin set foot in Britain again, drawn by the promise of Arthur’s eventual return. There was a Prince Arthur in England at the time, but he died before ascending to the throne. His brother, who succeeded him, was a veritable madman with terrible relationship skills.

Still, Merlin stayed, drawn by the lake and the memories.

* * *

As time passed, magic retreated, until Merlin could barely feel it anymore. He took to visiting Aithusa more often in her far-flung hiding places, longing to feel the presence of any other magical creature. Science ruled now, making the knowledge of Camelot seem obsolete. Technology soared far beyond the dreams of people in the past. The world changed more and more with each passing day.

Some things got worse with time. Others became better.

Emrys waited.

* * *

_When Albion’s need in greatest, the Once and Future King will rise again._

So many plagues and conflicts wracked the globe, including two world wars. Magic remained dormant, and Arthur did not rise.

Emrys waited.

* * *

Then came the apocalypse.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a little credit where credit is due.  
> A story I ran across ages ago on Fanfiction.net called "When Mayflies Went Extinct" by Aldryne21 first introduced me to the idea of a reincarnation fic set during/after an actual apocalypse. I don't believe it was ever finished and I haven't read it in years, so hopefully this is an original take on the idea.  
> Also, a lot of the apocalypse itself is "off-screen" for at least a while in this story, an idea I wanted to play with a bit after seeing the film "Into the Forest", which never shows that actual cause or larger scale of the "end of the world" but is still a really good, intense movie. The action in the fic will pick up, I promise. ;)  
> Enjoy :)

The first day of the end of the world wasn’t obvious. In fact, it turned out to be an excellent excuse for Garth Barclay to get out of talking to Ethan’s teacher about the teenager’s “behavioral problems.”

_I should’ve made Helen do this. She’s got better instincts for this kind of thing._

It didn’t help that the teacher was clearly suspicious of Garth’s ability to do anything in relation to his wards, and he didn’t blame her. He knew it looked strange, two siblings in their mere mid-twenties looking after two teenage twins and an eleven-year-old. _Well, that’s what happens with both sets of parents die in a freak car accident after the oldest_ _cousin_ _gets knifed to death by a drug addict and his one adult sibling decides to bail._

The normal discomfort of the situation was amplified by the teacher’s... _Ms. Ainsley? Ms. Amscram?..._ constant judgmental glares. So it was a relief when the ground began to shake and the power flickered off. It came back on a few seconds later, only to go off and stay off when another round of relatively tame but jarring earthquakes occurred.

It soon became clear that everyone should just say to hell with Friday’s after-school appointments and go home, so Ms. Whatever-Her-Name told Garth he could leave and take the twins with him. Despite the earthquakes, he sighed with relief as he escaped out into the hall where the teenagers were waiting. “Come on, boys, time to go.”

Ethan pocketed his phone with a huff, while Evan stifled a yawn. Due to what seemed to be a family-wide epidemic of strange dreams, none of them had been sleeping properly for weeks. Ethan practically lived on caffeine already, so he managed, but Evan was visibly struggling more each day.

Still, he was the responsible twin, so when they got in the car, Garth tossed his cellphone to him. “If there’s somehow service, call Helen. She’s probably at that animal shelter on a Friday.” His sister did legal research from home and volunteered at a variety of places when she had the time. Lately, she’d been focusing on one particular animal shelter. Garth had a feeling that there was more to it than the animals.

As Evan made the call, he noted the dark shadows under the boy’s eyes. _Well, I probably don’t look much better._ Just last night, he’d had a dream where he killed his own father.

Dreams of either of his parents dying weren’t exactly uncommon, but stabbing his dad with a sword? _I’ve never even_ held _a sword_. _Hopefully Evan isn’t dreaming that about Uncle Harold._

“Helen’s on break with Hal,” Evan said as he hung up. “And you’ve got a message from Heidi’s teacher...She needs to be picked up.”

“We’re on our way. Just hope there’s no more earthquakes.”

There weren’t any more that day, but when the power did come back on, nothing seemed to work correctly except the radio. With the kids in the next room arguing over a board game, Garth kept the radio on low while making dinner. What he heard made him deeply uneasy.

“ _No current explanation...Most electronics malfunctioning...This phenomenon has been reported worldwide...Earthquakes worldwide, focused in strange areas..._ _growing unrest..._ _”_

He called Helen. The connection was bad, but it worked just enough. “Come home. Things are really weird, and I need you here.”

She came back looking disgruntled, but forced a smile for the kids. Heidi and Ethan seemed to buy it. Evan clearly did not.

That night, Garth jolted awake from a dream in which he and his sister were fleeing through dark streets as a giant bell clanged in the background.

* * *

“Evan, eat something,” Helen prodded the next morning.

“Not hungry,” he mumbled.

She sat down next to him at the kitchen table, exchanging a look with Garth. “Bad dreams?” she questioned gently. 

“Yeah.” The fifteen-year-old shifted in his seat. “I...” His eyes slid over to the doorway to the living room, where Ethan was grumbling at his homework.

Garth followed his gaze. “Something happened to Ethan in your dream?”

“Yeah...um...He...It hurt me. Like a hole being ripped into my chest.” He shove his chair back and left the room.

Frowning, Garth turned back to the pan he’d been scrubbing, experiencing a wave of deja vu. Just a week ago, he’d awoken feeling something similar...only to realize that awakening itself was just a dream. “Helen, something’s off about all these dreams we’ve been having. Even Heidi’s getting them.”

“Yeah, they’re weird.” She started drying clean dishes, her brow furrowed. “Just last night, I had a dream about running through these streets in the dark. You were there...”

“...and the streets were all stone.” They both stopped and stared at each other. Garth continued, “You were wearing this long dress, and I think I had a cloak on. And in the background...”

“...a loud bell was ringing,” she finished. Then she chuckled. “We’ve done this before. When we were little, we’d have similar dreams or know what the other was thinking...Perks of being twins, right?”

“Yeah, but not for years. And the dreams were never _that_ similar.”

“I guess.” Brushing her short blonde hair out of her eyes, she put down the dishtowel and wandered of with the excuse of “checking on the other kids.”

_I guess there's enough to be worried about in the world right now without musing over strange dreams._

* * *

By Monday, a few of the quakes were forceful enough to topple furniture. A terrible moment occurred during which Garth was sure Heidi had been pinned under her falling chest of drawers. He all but collapsed with relief when found her hiding under her bed instead.

The voices on the portable wind-up radio said that most of the epicenters of the earthquakes seemed to be under major urban centers, which, according to all experts shouldn’t have been possible. Looting and rioting started, and even though they lived in a quiet neighborhood, it wasn’t like they had a state-of-the-art security system. Garth began discretely fortifying the windows, stockpiling food, and rationing what they already had.

People still tried to go to work, to function as best as they could. Schools were closed. Helen still insisted on taking the car to her volunteering locations despite damaged roads. Garth had never been happier to have a job he could walk to. _And cousins just old enough to take care of themselves._

“You think they’ll ever figure out what’s going on?” asked boyish Eddie, one of the other mechanics at the repair shop. “All the experts and such?”

Tensing as he felt another tiny earthquake ripple through the earth under their feet, Garth replied, “I don’t know. I hope so.” _I don’t want to imagine what will happen if they don’t._

He went home that evening to find Heidi crying while the twins shouted at each other over something trivial like who wore whose shirt that day. He’d just managed to calm everyone down when the worst earthquake yet hit. The street and their house were only cracked a little, but about a mile away, an entire block of flats collapsed.

Tuesday, another earthquake prompted the owner of the shop to close it down. “We’ll return to work when things have settled,” he told the assembled employees. But there was no confidence in his words, and as everyone went their separate ways, Garth had a feeling that he wouldn’t be seeing any of them again for a long time. _If ever._

Wednesday started off quiet. Garth tried to keep the kids distracted with card games until around noon, when everything started shaking again. Heidi clutched at him and wouldn’t let go as long as it lasted. The twins handled it better, but barely.

_We're all barely holding it together.._

After it finally stopped, half an hour later, he turned on the radio to hear that the latest round of earthquakes had severely damaged about a dozen major cities worldwide. The death toll had climbed into the hundreds of thousands. In the middle of the report, Helen called from the animal shelter. He could hardly hear her. “We need to get out of town, before everyone else starts trying to leave. Hal has a cottage way out in the countryside, an old family house. It’s isolated, has a functional well...or it did, last he checked...I think I can get the car to our house and out...”

“We’ll be ready when you get here.”

While the kids were packing their bags and bickering, Garth went through his parents’ things for the first time since they’d died four years ago. Assuming that the twins and Heidi would bring any mementos from Uncle Harold and Aunt Ava, he decided to take some photo albums, his mother’s giant book on edible and medicinal herbs, and his father’s small yet surprisingly functional dagger collection. He threw all the food he could find into the boot of the car when Helen pulled up, gave his motorcycle a longing look, and locked the house. _For all the good it’ll do._

The radio was choked with static as as they drove southwest, towards the distant hills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the guest who left kudos and to Nebula5030 who left a comment!


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I confess, I had a few chapters written before I started posting and didn't want to wait. Don't get too used to quick updates. :D

Hal met them at a vehicle turnout outside the city limits. He was thin, blond, and had unusually dark gray eyes. He owned an iguana and a couple bearded dragons; he’d brought them along in his car, along with three of the shelter dogs and a cat. He greeted Helen and gave everyone else a long, searching look before asking if their was anything else they should pick up on the way to the cottage.

As they drove behind him along the winding road that had quite a bit more traffic that normal, it occurred to Garth that Hal seemed familiar. _I think he’s featured in a few of my bizarre dreams lately. But...I’m pretty sure I’ve never even seen a picture of the man before._

He distracted himself from that realization by trying to call his cousin Hannah; he’d gotten her number months ago from a friend of a friend. She didn’t pick up, and he cursed. 

"Garth, the kids," Helen snapped, her eyes on the road. 

He twisted look to look into the back seat; Heidi and Ethan were asleep. Evan, wide awake, met his gaze. "Try again," he said quietly. "Please." 

Swallowing, Garth faced forward and tried calling Hannah again. And again. She never picked up. 

When the phone service gave out a couple hours later, it didn’t come back. 

The Prime Minister’s muddled speech over the radio did nothing to reassure them or the many frightened people they saw along the roads.

* * *

The cottage was located in a little hollow on top of a mostly-wooded hill seemingly in the middle of nowhere, and was only accessible via a very long, narrow, unpaved driveway. It had one bathroom, three bedrooms, and not enough area in any other room to make six people feel like there was enough space. Yet the roof didn’t leak, the well did still work even if they had to boil the water on the wood stove to be safe, and options were limited anyway, so they made the best of it.

At first, Garth worried a bit about the isolation. _We’re a long way from the nearest village, even..._ But he soon realized that was a good thing, with the news over the radio becoming steadily worse and people everywhere growing more desperate. It got to the point where they stopped daring to go to those nearest villages to look through dwindling supplies under the gaze of armed shopkeepers; there was no fuel left for the cars, anyway.

The earthquakes continued intermittently, and the weather became unpredictable. Hailstorms struck and cleared up in minutes, leaving the air baking hot. Gale-force winds swept through leaving humid calm in their wake. Rumors came up, stories of unexplained plagues, of terrifying monsters, of worse horrors lurking behind every corner in a world not insulated by technology.

About ten weeks after the first quake, the radio stopped working entirely.

* * *

Survival was tiring. Garth and Helen’s mother’s book came in handy for gathering what edible plants they could find; the weather killed of some growing things but many others, some completely unfamiliar to anyone, seemed to like it and grew like crazy. The local area apparently had an infestation of rabbits, which Hal somehow knew how to trap and butcher. He was also the one who suggested rationing and saving their supply of non-perishable foods.

Heidi and Ethan complained some...no one liked almost-unseasoned rabbit with nothing but bitter herbs to go with it, after all. Evan just shrugged and accepted anything, and most of the time they were all too hungry to turn anything down.

A couple times, people passed through...a young family of three, a couple pairs, a loner...all wary but polite, willing to swap supplies and information. Eventually, the scattered visits ceased.

Silence became more familiar every day, as the weight of isolation and the apparent end of the world settled upon them. The conveniences and entertainment of most technology seemed like faraway fantasies. Everyone had trouble sleeping...Evan always looked too tired to talk, Ethan acted bored and listless every day, and Heidi kept crying late into the night, according to Helen, who shared a bedroom with her...and none of the eerie dreams let up. Honestly, they had become almost boring.

One day, after a too-warm rainstorm that lasted all morning and left a cool, clear afternoon behind, Garth went out on the narrow porch to find Hal sitting on the steps, watching the dogs roll around in the wet grass. Not sure what else to do, he sat down, too.

Hal broke the silence first. “If the weather every settles down, we can plant a vegetable garden. I brought seeds.”

“Yeah. That’d be a good idea.” Garth watched the blue-eyed Husky Hal called Turquoise chase Jasper, a brindled greyhound, around the yard. Pearl, a small, silvery-white mutt, wandered over to the porch and flopped down by Hal’s feet. Jade the cat padded out from under a porch chair and rubbed her head against Garth’s arm. He patted her distractedly. “Why are all your animals named after gemstones?” Hal’s iguana was named Malachite and his bearded dragons had the names Quartz and Agate. In their case, however, Garth had no clue which names belonged to which reptile.

In response to his question, the blond man laughed and said, “Old habits, I suppose.”

“It’s an old habit of yours to name animals after rocks?”

Hal glanced at him, lips twisted into an odd smile. “You have no idea, do you?”

Despite the sometimes-inexplicable trust Garth had in the man, Hal’s words made him uncomfortable enough to get up and go back into the house.

Between bouts of sleeplessness mostly brought on by the snoring twins on the other side of his bedroom, he dreamed of giant, dark-scaled lizards...and a single, smaller white one...that night.

* * *

The first earthquake had occurred in early spring. The rest of the season, along with summer and autumn, passed with decreasing quakes and increasing unpredictable weather. Things only began to settle as winter approached, when everything started to die and it started to get cold.

_Very_ cold.

“None of it makes sense,” Helen said one day while she and Garth searched the icy, patchy woods for something not poisonous or disgusting or unidentifiable. “I’m no scientist, yet...If there was some sort of nuclear war, we would have heard about it before the radio went dead, and the winter would have set in sooner. Same with a gigantic volcanic eruption, or an asteroid…”

“And we haven’t seen any zombies around.” Garth bent to examine a plant, shivering under three layers of clothing, none of which were heavy enough. _We’re going to have to go_ _looking_ _for more warm clothes, and medicine...herbs only go so far…That means going further away,_ _possibly_ _getting closer to other people..._ _Few of them will be friendly,_ _not after so long_ _..._

Helen sighed and slammed the plant book shut. “There’s no such thing as zombies, Garth.”

“Maybe not, however…” Garth straightened, looked in her general direction, and stiffened, heart hammering in his chest. “...apparently there are such things as giant hairy pigs.”

Helen spun around and stifled a shriek.

A reasonable reaction, given the snorting, red-eyed, _van-sized_ boar currently staring them down.


	4. Chapter 3

Before he realized he’d started moving, Garth found himself between the creature and his sister. It pawed at the ground, tearing up mats of grass and lowering its massive head. Its tusks seemed to glint in the cold light.

He reached for the long dagger in his belt, the largest of his father’s collection. As he unsheathed it, he realized just how small it really was. _I should have a sword, or a spear...This won’t work unless I get right under the thing without being gutted...Then, just maybe…_

Abruptly, the boar let out an ear-splitting squeal and charged.

“Helen, get back!” Garth yelled, throwing himself out of the way yet forward. A sudden tearing sensation down his side, followed by searing pain as he hurtled through the air, told him that he hadn’t moved fast or far enough. Then he hit a tree and blacked out.

But only for a moment, and not long enough for him to miss Helen’s scream.

Or the boar’s.

For an instant, the forest was flooded with brilliant light. Garth instinctively shut his eyes, feeling a powerful wind sweep over him, not understanding the wave of exhilaration that flooded through him under the shock and terror.

And when he opened his eyes again and propped himself up on his elbows, the boar was a smoldering heap of fur and bones.

_Oh, God...wait, my sister, where..._

“Helen…” He tried to move, crying out as pain ripped through his body and brought him to the ground again. With one hand, he fumbled at the left side of his rib cage, feeling something hot and sticky coating a tear in his coat and shirts. _That’s not good..._ Black spots swam in his vision.

“ _Brother!_ ” Helen flung herself down beside him, rolling him onto his back and batting his hand away from the injury. “No, no, no...Don’t move any more, just let me look…Should’ve been faster…”

Somewhere in the distance, Hal’s dogs were barking. “Helen…” Garth choked out, struggling to blink away the encroaching darkness, “That thing...I don’t...what did you…”

“Just hush, you brave _idiot_ …” She sobbed harshly. “Don’t you _dare_ die on me, Gwaine...don’t you dare...”

_Gwaine? What the hell..._ Unconsciousness swallowed the thought, along with the rest of him.

* * *

Everything hurt. His body rattled with chills even as his inside burned. The voices around him echoed too loudly, clanging around his skull and making him want to scream. But he couldn’t even summon the strength to do that.

“ _Ah! Strength has arrived!”_

When he’d been eight, he’d fallen off his bike and ended up with a broken arm. In the hospital waiting room, Helen had sat next to him, keeping him distracted mostly by telling him what an idiot he was until their mother had told her to stop.

“ _That’s final, you two. No more races through the apple trees.”_

At age ten, he’d gotten into his first schoolyard brawl. His father had sat him down and given him a long lecture on how violence wasn’t the answer to anything. Garth never got into another fistfight again; verbal fights were another subject altogether.

_"I've been watching you, Gwaine. And you're a warrior, it's clear. I keep telling myself that it's enough to know that my son can fight when I cannot. But it isn't. I wish it was."_

He and his cousin Alan had taken their first motorbike rides when they were fifteen and seventeen, respectively. It had been very dangerous and illegal and they’d found themselves in enormous trouble when they were caught, but it had been thrilling and so worth it.

_"If we're lucky…meet you on the other side of the war, cousin."_

_"Yeah. Meet you on the other side."_

Memories of holidays in bustling London tangled with memories of walking through cobbled streets under unpolluted skies and red-gold banners. Images of a modest townhouse on a broad street melded with pictures of a small castle among a sprawling apple orchard. Recollections of riding a motorbike to work clashed with horseback rides over untamed highlands.

He could remember boring tests in school, crazy uni parties, and supermarket visits. He could also remember sword-fighting lessons, wild Beltane feasts, and difficult hunts.

He knew that he lived in the United Kingdom of the twenty-first century, and that he was twenty-five years old. Yet he could recall being older than sixty, and living in a time when unicorns still roamed the forests of Albion and dragons still soared across the skies.

_I’m Garth Barclay...mechanic, legal guardian of three cousins, and reluctant survivalist._

Yet he was also Gwaine Barclayn...knight, member of the royal family of Bernicia, and, for a long time, reluctant sorcerer.

He still didn’t feel like he had it anywhere near completely sorted out when his fever finally broke and he awoke lucid enough to tell his sister that yes, his side did hurt like hell but no, he didn’t think he was dying _._ _I do remember what_ that _felt like._

Elen, somehow appearing both softened and hardened by her “reemerged” memories, slumped into the chair by his bed and rested her head in her hands. “I was never the healer that Mother was.”

“No, you weren’t.” She glanced up, and he met her gaze with a wry grin. “Neither was I, though.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “You were better at starting fires.”

“Yeah. Not sure I could…” He shifted, grimacing. “Ugh. Not sure I could manage that right now.”

“Well…” Elen was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. “Come in!”

Hayden walked in, expression full of concern. “Are you all right, Gw...Garth?”

“I’m still alive.” Gwaine chuckled. “I get why you name your pets after rocks now. Seriously, how long have you remembered?”

Instantly relaxed, Hayden smiled and said, “You mean, how long have I remembered my past life? Since the first day Elen walked through the door of the animal shelter, months ago.”

“Damn.” _That must’ve been hard. I can’t imagine if I’d seen Cleva and...Oh. No. Not going there right now._ “Hey, did you have weird dreams before that, though?”

“A few.” Sitting down on the cot across the room, Hayden said, “If that's an indicator, I’d say Everard and Elwin are close to remembering, too.”

Gwaine flinched, a vivid memory surfacing _._ _Cold rain, the slumped shoulders of the returning patrol, the shrouded bodies of the dead from a border skirmish...King Everard’s wrenching sobs echoing around the castle courtyard..._ “That’s...that’s not going to be pretty.”

“It’ll hurt, but at the same time...They’ll get a second chance,” Hayden pointed out.

_A second chance at what? Saying goodbye before one or both of them die?_

_“_ The real question is, how the hell is any of this possible?” Elen said. “We all _died_. And apparently came back, right around the time human civilization is collapsing partly because of the damned weather…And now giant boars are roaming around Northumberland...”

“And you’re blowing them up. How did you explain that to the kids?”

Elen avoided his gaze. “We didn’t let them see it. Didn’t actually tell them that it did died or how big it was, either.”

“Huh.” Drained of all energy, Gwaine slumped back against the pillows and closed his eyes. “How long was I out, anyway?”

Hayden answered. “Two days, give or take.”

His eyes flew open again. “Only two? That’s odd. Without good healing magic, that is.”

“Not when you have a stash of antibiotics.” Elen stood up; Hayden mirrored her and they seemed to reach for each other’s hands automatically. “I’ll get you some painkillers; then I want you to sleep, brother. We’ll talk more in a while.”

“Over a thousand years later and you’re still bossing me around,” Gwaine mumbled. Yet he was grateful to leave his bewildering mess of memories behind as he fell asleep.

* * *

_I bet Merlin knows what’s going on_ was the first thing that popped into his head when he woke up again.

_Young Merlin grinning at him over a tray of food. Middle-aged Merlin telling stories at a feast and laughing uproariously. Old Merlin groaning and grumbling about his aching bones._ Hundreds, thousands of memories, all centered around the clever, selfless man who had, arguably, been the most powerful person to ever walk the Earth. _If anyone would understand what’s happening,_ _it would be him._

When he voiced this thought to his sister over the light breakfast she brought him, she rolled her eyes dramatically and said, “He’s _Emrys_ , Gwaine. Of _course_ he knows what’s going on. Assuming he’s still alive.”

The idea of Merlin being dead was not one he ever wanted to confront. _Done that alread_ _y._ “Well, he’s immortal, right? Supposedly?” _Never understood the immortality business when Merlin told me about it, but he seemed pretty certain..._

“According to legend, yes. He’s supposed to wait for the return of the Once and Future King to save Albion in its darkest hour.”

“In other words, he’s waiting for Arthur to show up.” Gwaine chewed thoughtfully on a slightly stale cracker. “We should go find him.” _And look for more supplies...I should check on that when I’m allowed up..._

Sighing, Elen shook her head. “Not right now. Maybe when you’re better. I didn’t sew up a massive gash on your ribs just for you to rip the stitches out in a week.”

“All right.” After she left, Gwaine lay awake, trying to come up with the best strategy for finding a missing immortal warlock. _Poor Merlin…He might’ve been alone all this time...Where would he be hiding out if the world ended?_

He fell asleep deliberating on the possibilities...and avoiding any thoughts outside of his old friend and solving the mystery of the unexpected apocalypse. _I don’t want to deal with everything else. I can’t. I won’t. Not yet._

Garth wouldn’t have been able to compartmentalize like that; he’d never learned how.

But Gwaine could...he’d learned how to a long, long time ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Gwaine, there will be so much angst when you let yourself process everything... :D  
> Thanks for the kudos and comments!


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the absence; I didn't have internet for about a week :)

Two days later, Elen still discouraged Gwaine from leaving his bed unless absolutely necessary, and this afternoon he was alone, fuming silently about being stuck when he heard the door creak open. He looked over to see Heidi... _Hertha_...poking her head through. “Can I come in?” she asked cautiously.

“Why not?”

“Helen said we couldn’t bother you.”

_Right, makes sense._ He’d heard his cousins’ voices quite a bit over the past couple days...the size of the cottage made it impossible not to...but Elen had been keeping them out so he could rest. “Well, she’s not here now, and I’m much better, really.”

Slipping inside and closing the door gingerly, the girl began to fiddle with her messy braid. “She went to gather stuff with Hal. Evan’s napping. Ethan’s playing with the dogs outside.”

“I see. Where have the twins been sleeping, anyway?”

“Living room. They don’t like it. But Hal’s room is basically a the size of a closet.”

Gwaine snorted. “Figures.” He shifted the pillows around so he could sit upright and patted the edge of the bed. “Come here; I’m not breakable. Did you bring a deck of cards, by any chance?”

The girl’s worried expression immediately morphed into a broad grin, and she skipped over, pulling the cards out of her jacket pocket.

As they played a few games and Heidi rambled on about how annoying her brothers were, Gwaine kept stealing glances at her, overwhelmed with memories of a joyful, brilliant woman with a wild mane of hair who acted out every story she told. He could see her pacing in front of a crowd in a fire-lit room, her hands making expressive shadows on the walls and her voice rising and falling like she was casting a spell. _She was bold and energetic right up until the end_ , he recalled, suppressing a grimace. _She died before me. They all did._

He’d been forcing that thought down since his old memories returned, but there it was. Suddenly all he could think about was Hertha passing away in her sleep without warning, not long after Haralda had died in Camelot and not long before King Everard drew his last breaths in Bernicia. He recalled Hayden’s simple funeral, and Elen…

“Are you okay, Garth?” Heidi looked worried again.

He forced a smile. “Just thinking, Dee.”

“Don’t call me that!” She made a face. I’m not a baby anymore!”

“No, just the baby of the family.” Ruffling her hair, he smiled for real this time. “If you insist. So, what were you just saying about Helen?”

“Oh, yeah, I was just saying that…” Leaning forward, gaze darting around the room as if checking for eavesdroppers, she whispered dramatically, “I think she and Hal _like_ each other!” She sat back, looking triumphant with her deduction.

He had to laugh. _She has no idea. Not yet._ “I think you may be right, Heidi.”

* * *

The next day, Gwaine woke up rather excited, as Elen had told him the previous evening he could at last leave his bed in the morning. Mind occupied with various plans, he was almost through getting dressed when he realized he was fumbling around for a sword he didn’t have.

_Damn. This is going to take some getting used to._ The long dagger Elen had been kind enough to leave by his bedside….along with a meager breakfast and some pills...didn’t have nearly the same comforting weight when he attached it to his belt, but it had to do.

The twins were at the kitchen table, muttering over some of the well-worn comic books they’d brought with them to the cottage, when Gwaine walked in. To his surprise, both teenagers gave him careful hugs before he even got his dirty plate to the sink. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Evan asked.

_I’ve fought battles while in more pain. Plus we didn’t have over-the-counter painkillers back then when magic wasn’t available._ “I’ll survive, Ev. You two doing alright?” He scrutinized them both, thinking _Dear lord, they’re almost exactly the same as their past selves. Just give them longer hair and some Albion-era clothes._

“Yeah, we’re good,” Ethan said, wrinkling his nose. “Hal’s in the woods teaching Heidi how to set traps.”

“And this displeases you?”

“No, he’s just annoyed about catching Hal kissing Helen earlier,” Evan said with a stern look in his twin’s direction.

“We barely know the guy!”

“We’ve been living in his house for six months, Ethan! And that aside, Helen knows him way better!”

“But he never talks!”

“No, he listens,” Gwaine interrupted. _Arguing just like they used to, back when they were young princes on the training field. I don’t think I missed_ that _._ “And he’s damn good at it.”

Narrowing his eyes, Ethan said, “You don’t mind.”

“No, I don’t.” _I remember them being married for decades. The weirdness wore off._ “I like him fine, they like each other, and besides, we owe him a lot. I suggest you deal with it. Where is she, anyway?”

“Outside,” Evan said. “It’s marginally warmer today.”

Leaving the boys to their comics and grabbing a coat on the way out, Gwaine found his sister sitting on the front steps, absentmindedly stroking the Jade while she stared into the distance. The dogs lounged about the yard, each gnawing contentedly on a bone. _Hayden was always good at getting animals to behave._ “Not too cold today, huh?” he said as he lowered himself onto the step beside Elen.

Elen shook herself and glanced at him. “Yeah. Just a bit chilly. Don’t get used to it, just in case.”

“Yeah. I think we’re all getting used to disappointment.”

“Hmm. How’s the injury?”

“Bit sore.” He watched her as she continued petting the cat. Her hair had grown out some over the past months, framing her face in soft golden waves. She looked older than her age, too. _Understandable. Though that started before the memories came back._ And…“Your magic?”

She smiled faintly, whispered a word, and held out her hand to reveal the small, bright flame dancing on her palm.

“So all the spells you used to know…”

“They work. The ones I’ve tried, at least.” She laughed softly. “I’d forgotten how it felt, to have it at my fingertips...to feel it singing in my blood…”

“I know what you mean.” Gwaine took a deep breath, eyes still on his sister. _She looks happy about it...She always missed it..._ Without thinking, he blurted, “You died a decade before I did, you know.”

“I...what?” She blinked at him. “Ten whole years?”

“Well, maybe closer to eight. But it was a while.” Gwaine hesitated, then leaned over and pulled his sister into a tight embrace. Closing his eyes, he murmured, “I just woke up one day and somehow _knew_ you were gone...I missed you so much, Elen. Every damn day.”

She hugged him back, not saying anything for a while. Then, “Did you keep using magic?”

“There’s the thing. It...went away. Not long after you did.” He pulled away with a dry chuckle. “I think it was still tied to you, somehow. I guess you were right; the magic was never really mine. It was always yours.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Biting her lip for a moment, she said, “Hayden...He didn’t mention that. We, um…”

“I’m sure you’ve had other things to talk about. He missed you, too.”

“I suppose. I…” Elen let out a huff. “It’s...it’s just _so much…_ ”

“I know.” _It’s so much that I’ve been trying to avoid it like the plague._

“I looked through some of our photo albums yesterday. It’s so strange...Seeing Mum and Dad, then remembering them like they used to be, back in Bernicia...And you know what else?” She laughed again, a little bitterly this time. “Looking at those pictures of us as a family, I honestly thought to myself, ‘I’d kill for a photo of Henry and Heather.’”

“I can imagine,” Gwaine replied with a smile. “I know I’d love to have one of Caldwell and Holly.”

And that was when it hit him.

_My son and daughter are dead. Our children...they’re gone._

Just like their parents... _We lost them twice; Aldwyn, too..._ along with myriad others, most probably never to return. They had passed long ago, their very bones crumbling to dust under a fast-changing world that forgot everything about them save a few legendary names. _And even those were twisted almost beyond recognition. Like that legend about Arthur and Morgana having a child together...ugh. Disgusting._

For an instant, he let himself picture his own children: Caldwell with his perceptive dark eyes that so often flashed gold, Holly with her ringing laugh and her trusted sword that rarely left her side. He remembered them as young children, as adolescents growing into their respective skills, and as adults, wise and strong and very much alive when he took his last breath.

_But not anymore._

His eyes stung and he clamped them shut, trying to stifle the gut-wrenching ache inside of him...the yawning pit in his confusing existence where they...his children, his wife, his parents...should still be. He felt Elen’s hand close over his arm, squeezing gently. “I know, brother,” she said, her voice sounding thick. “I know.”

They remained on the steps like that, lost in sorrowful memories...some truly bad ones, like the sight of a crumpled, blood-spattered car in the middle of the road, others good but touched with grief, like watching several young children play among a pack of wyverns...until Hayden and Heidi returned.

The nightmares started that night, off and on, and the only comfort Gwaine could find was that they were the same old familiar ones. _Almost killing Father, watching Aldwyn die, Elen’s blank-eyed stare after her imprisonment by the warlord Haig, seeing Cleva or the children hurt and not being able to help them...At least I know what to expect._

He couldn’t say that about the real world now.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I'm so late with this chapter. First the internet was bonkers, then I got really sick...but enough excuses. On with the story :)

“You shouldn’t be out here, Gwaine.”

“You keep saying things like that, Elen. And yet, here I am!” Gwaine paused mid-stride and bowed mockingly. “Seriously, sis, I’m okay.”

Two weeks after the “boar incident”, he had finally convinced Elen that he was well enough to go on a scouting and supply mission, and that such a journey was necessary. They had food stashed, of course, but more would surely be needed, along with additional warm clothing and blankets; temperatures continued to veer below freezing and most of their traps kept coming up empty. Elen had insisted that she should come along because she could use her magic in an emergency, and Hayden had pointed out that despite months of their living there, he still knew the surrounding area far better than they did. 

So at dawn that morning, they had left the kids with most of their meager store of weapons...and all three dogs...and struck out over the cold, quiet landscape towards the nearest village, about half a day’s walk or more away. They saw no one, just wildlife, some distant wandering farm animals, and more and more evidence of the earthquakes. 

Along the way, Gwaine had taken a misstep into a grass-covered fissure and pulled the still-healing scar on his side; he’d made the mistake of not keeping quiet about it, hence Elen’s comment. 

She rolled her eyes at his flippant response. “I wish Mother were here. She would’ve fixed you up by now and I wouldn’t have to worry.” 

“You did just fine,” Gwaine assured her. Then, grinning, he added, “I mean, you killed it instantly and saved my life, first of all.” 

He saw her suppressing a smile as she said, “Well, someone always has to save your sorry…” 

“ _Shit!_ ” Hayden’s voice reached them from up ahead, where he had stopped on the crest of a low hill. 

“What’s going on?” Elen called, hurrying to him with Gwaine close behind. Reaching the top, they too halted, staring in horror. 

The village hadn’t been much more than a few streets, a couple shops, and a church. But it had been their closest link to civilization...a link that had now vanished almost entirely into a massive sinkhole edged by the charred remains of a few buildings. 

“What in the _hell_ …” Elen breathed after a long silence. “When…”

“Sometime in the last few months, I expect,” Gwaine said numbly. _If it were just burnt buildings, that would be one thing...But a sinkhole right under a village? Either some one-off thing, or what happened to the cities is happening to smaller towns, too…_ Maybe the earth itself was just trying to murder all groups of humans. _Doesn’t bode well for us, then…_

“I don’t think we’re going to find anything here,” Hayden said, voice rough. “There’s a patch of forest we can shelter in tonight, maybe a few hours’ walk. It’s on the way to the next village.”

None of them spoke much for the length of that journey, and that night while keeping watch, Gwaine could swear he heard distant screeches that sounded like no animal that should exist in 21 st century Britain. 

Gripping his dagger, he thought back to a different campsite in a very different time. 

“ _You can turn back if you want.”_

“ _Heh. I’m not scared of pheasants.”_

He almost laughed, then sobered thinking,  _Merlin, where the hell are you?_

* * *

Neither Elen nor Gwaine could get more than a word or two out of Hayden the next morning, even around noon, when they found an empty farmhouse with some usable supplies...mostly canned goods, blankets, and clothing...tucked away in various corners. It hadn’t been empty for too long, however, judging by the freshness of the short row of crude graves in the moldering garden. 

_I wonder where the person who dug them went._ There were no unburied bodies anywhere on the premises. 

The next village, as small as the last, was not swallowed by a sinkhole, but something about the  echoing streets filled with empty vehicles and rubbish yet devoid of all life made Gwaine even more uneasy. 

“We shouldn’t stay here tonight,” he said after yet another mostly-fruitless raid on a shop.

“Where else are we going to stay?” Elen demanded, gesturing up at the clouded afternoon sky. “It’s either going to rain or snow soon, and after nearly freezing to death last night, I’ll take a haunted house over sleeping outside!” 

“Well, _I’ll_ take the outdoors over...”

“ _Be quiet!_ ” Hayden hissed sharply. 

They both fell silent, startled, and in the following  quiet Gwaine heard what the former wyvern tamer must have. _Footsteps._ _Damn it._

They hardly had time to brace themselves before the street was lined with about fifteen raggedly-dressed, masked figures, all carrying some combination of knives, spiked bats, and hunting firearms. 

_The ubiquitous bandits of every era, no doubt._ Automatically backing up into the others, Gwaine muttered, “Believe me now,  Elen ?” 

“Shut it.” 

“Drop any weapons you have!” one of the strangers shouted. A necklace of several dozen small, everyday keys jangled around his neck as he hefted his shotgun. “Do it now or you’re dead!”

“I don’t suppose you’d want to bargain for anything?” Gwaine shot back. 

The man leered at the only woman in the area and said, “Not anything I think you’d want to bargain with. Now drop your weapons and anything else you’ve got!” 

_So much for that._ Glancing towards Elen, Gwaine said, “Can you handle them?” 

He heard guffaws from a couple of the closest bandits, but more clearly heard his sister’s low, “You two handle the stranglers.” She then took a step forward, facing the man with the key necklace, and said, “" _**W** _ _**áce** _ _**ierlic.** _ "

He went flying, and then the next man yelling and raising his gun, then the next. Gwaine yanked out his dagger and charged to the nearest bandit, whose main weapon was a chain-wrapped cricket bat. It was sheer muscle memory to bring him down, just as it was with the next man who came roaring at him with a butcher knife.

Bodies and weapons seemed to stop flying suddenly, and they stood in the middle of the aftermath, catching their breaths. Elen looked exhilarated, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright, though her expression shifted into concern in a few moments. “Hayden! You’re hurt!”

The blond man glanced down at his right arm, where blood dripped out of a narrow horizontal cut. “It’s a scratch, Elen.” 

“At least let me tie it up,” she said, already at his side. “You always did leave your dominant arm unguarded in a fight.” 

He grinned fleetingly and said, “I used to have wyverns to watch my every side. It didn't matter so much.” 

Gwaine snorted and began making his way through the bodies, part of him feeling nauseous as he flipped corpses and examined weapons. _Garth’s never killed a person in his life. I’m pretty sure Gwaine killed too many._

But then, he’d lived in a very different time. 

Shaking that off, he called to the others. “This lot probably has a lair somewhere in town.”

“And a stash of supplies.” Elen walked over to join him, looking a little pleased. “We could get back to the kids sooner than expected with a better haul.” 

“Yeah.” Gwaine smiled tightly. “I’m sure they’re okay, though. They’re smart.” 

“They’d better be,” Hayden said. “Let’s find that lair and get out of here.”

* * *

The “lair” turned out to be a fortified circle of portable sheds, shipping containers, and dead vehicles just outside of town. Sifting through the empty liquor bottles and heaps of stinking refuse wasn’t pleasant, but it yielded good results. 

“So we’ve got alcohol, more canned and dried food, some weapons…” Knives were abundant, though the three avoided any of the firearms, opting to toss the ammunition they found instead. _We wouldn’t have a clue how to use them._ “Makes you wonder how many people these bandits had to do away with to get their hands on this much stuff…” 

“I’d rather _not_ think about it, Gwaine,” Elen said with a scowl. “I’d rather think about how we’re going to carry as much as possible back home.” She stiffened. “Did you hear that?” 

Gwaine stood still and listened for a minute. Then... _Thump._ “Yeah, I heard that.”

“It’s coming from one of the shipping containers,” Hayden said, pointing to the rusty orange structure. “That one that’s padlocked.” 

“We’ll see about that,” Gwaine said, hefting a crowbar he’d spotted earlier. “Elen, keep a spell or two ready, huh?” 

“Way ahead of you.” 

A few strong blows and the lock gave way; it took a minute for Gwaine to get the stiff latch moving and haul the heavy door open. The sound of something scrambling around inside sent him reaching for his knife again. 

“Whoever you are, come out of there now!” Elen shouted. 

“Hopefully it’s just a friendly prisoner of the local highwaymen…” Gwaine said under his breath as he joined the other two, standing back from the container. 

A few more noises, and a haggard figure emerged from the darkness into the twilight, a broad-shouldered, bearded figure who looked strangely like…

“ _Leon?_ ” Gwaine exclaimed. 

Blinking confusedly, the former knight let out a disbelieving laugh. “ _Gwaine?_ ” 


	7. Chapter 6

Leon’s ruling emotion for the rest of the night seemed to be relief. While giving Gwaine, Elen, and Hayden all bear hugs, he kept saying, “You don’t know how good it is to finally _know_ I’m not crazy...You just don’t know…” He sounded almost tearful, hysterical compared to the mostly reserved, controlled Leon of old.

Then again, a week of being imprisoned and taunted by monstrous bandits because he wouldn’t join them might do that even without a past life to reckon with.

Over a small campfire and a decent meal, Leon calmed down enough to explain a bit more. “I started getting old memories when I was a child...just ones from when I was that age, thankfully. Everyone thought I was just making stuff up, imagining things...it was fine. I was a kid. But as I got older, the memories got sharper, and darker, and eventually it stopped being funny. No one believed me, of course, except...well, no one, really. Since the earthquakes started I can remember absolutely everything, and there’s so much…”

“We only remembered recently,” Gwaine said. “I’m sorry, mate; sounds like you had it rough.”

“Probably should be used to it.” Leon shrugged. “I was the last of the old guard left in Camelot all those years ago. Merlin and I actually talked about it a couple times...about how I seemed to survive anything. The Great Dragon, then that business with the Cup of Life, then my outliving everyone...His theory was some kind of Old Religion blessing when I was young...I mean, I was born before the Great Purge. It could’ve happened.”

“And affected your memories in this life?” Elen looked thoughtful. “I’ve never heard of anything like that...But I’ve never heard of reincarnation in the Old Religion, either. Not like this, anyway.”

“No prophecies about the end of the world?” Leon asked.

“Again, not like this.”

Hayden spoke up unexpectedly. “You mentioned earlier that there might be an exception to your old memories not being taken seriously.”

“Not...not really an exception,” Leon said, hesitating. “He...he didn’t believe me because he didn’t have _his_ old memories, but at least he never made me feel like I belonged in a padded room.”

“Wait, _who_ didn’t have his old memories?” Gwaine demanded.

“Gaius,” Leon said matter-of-factly. “He was one of my regular doctors when I was younger...I didn’t mention?”

* * *

The very rough outlines of a couple plans began to take shape the next day as they left the bandit compound and started back towards the cottage with all the supplies they could carry.

During bursts of conversation, it became clear that one thing they could all agree on was that Merlin, being the immortal, all-powerful sorcerer that he was, was out there somewhere. They could also all agree that if anyone knew at least some of what was going on and what to do about it, it was him.

The third thing they came to a tentative consensus on was that if Merlin felt in any way uncertain about the current state of the world and how to fix it, Gaius would be the one he would turn to first.

“Even after he’d grown old, he still admitted to missing Gaius’s counsel,” Leon insisted.

“Yes, but that was a good fifteen hundred plus years ago,” Elen said. “Is Gaius even still alive?”

“Well, I know where he was living and practicing when everything went south,” Leon said. “If...if he did survive all this...He must have his memories back by now.”

“If, if, if.” Elen muttered. “So how far is he supposed to be?”

“Last I heard, he was in York.”

“That’s a fair distance on foot,” Hayden said. “And it’s a city.”

They all let the _The big towns and cities went to shit first_ go unspoken. “Maybe he got out,” Gwaine said. “Gaius is pretty damn smart and resourceful. No way that’s changed. Find him, find Merlin. See? Simple.”

“But what if Merlin doesn’t even realize any of us are alive again?” Hayden pointed out. “And there’s no _guarantee_ he’ll go to Gaius in any case.”

Gwaine stopped long enough to give Hayden an exasperated look. “Seriously, dear brother-in-law, what’s gotten into you? I don’t remember you being such a pessimist in your past life!”

“I never had to deal with 21st century Earth in my past life.” The other man shook his head and shouldered past the others, taking the lead with a stride much faster than was normal or necessary.

Eyes following her husband, Elen stated, “We’ll keep thinking about looking for Gaius...It’s a possibility, in any case. Right now, however, we need to get back to the kids. That’ll be tomorrow at the earliest.”

“Even if we don’t find Merlin, we can find other people, reasonable people,” Leon said. “Safety in numbers, right? Before the bandits caught up to me, I heard a few rumors of safe havens, new settlements...At least one place seemed pretty credible; I met some people who’d been there, only left to find family...But it’s a long way from here, on the Isle of Anglesey.”

“So it’s in Wales,” Elen said, unimpressed. “You’re right, that’s a very long way without a car. And with God knows how many bandits and sinkholes in the way. “

“We have a lot to think about,” Gwaine said. “Elen’s right, though. Let’s get back to the cottage, make sure the kids are okay, and regroup. We’ll discuss future plans more then.”

* * *

The dogs announced their return long before the cottage came into view. Heidi came running with them, throwing herself into Elen’s arms as Turquoise, Jasper, and Pearl swarmed Hayden and Leon. The twins were close behind, Evan looking more exhausted than ever.

While hugging Heidi and joining Elen in giving reassurances, Gwaine looked over his cousin’s curly head and glimpsed unmistakable recognition on Evan’s face as the teenager looked at Leon.

_Oh. Well, that’s interesting._

Leon was introduced to the kids...accurately...as someone they’d rescued from some ruffians...leaving out what had happened to said ruffians...and soon enough they were all inside, sorting through supplies and having something of a good time with it. The light from the fireplace, several pillaged candles, and three miraculously-functioning solar-powered lamps held the outside darkness at bay.

About an hour later, Gwaine asked Evan to help bring in some more firewood. Once out in the chilly evening air, he grasped the boy’s shoulder and turned him around to face him, making sure the light from the nearest window lit up both their faces. “Can I ask you a question?”

Evan hesitated for an instant. “Yeah, of course.”

“How long have you remembered?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean, _Everard_.”

In a millisecond, the innocent facade crumbled, and as the teenager squared his shoulders and looked directly into his cousin’s eyes, all Gwaine could see was Everard Barclayn: famed warrior, diplomat, and King of Bernicia. “I could ask the same question.”

Feeling rather like he was reporting the results of a patrol to his king, Gwaine answered, “Since the incident with the boar. Elen remembered then, too. Hayden knew sooner. Leon...apparently he’s been recalling things since childhood.”

“Hmm.” Everard sighed, gaze distant. “The dreams were so vivid for so long. Finally, I accepted that they must be real, in some way, and...and then it was all there. Every memory, every sensation...everything.” He refocused on Gwaine. “That was a few weeks ago.”

“So you’ve remembered longer than me or Elen.” Getting confirmation in the form of a nod, Gwaine asked, “Why didn’t you tell us? Surely you must’ve suspected when we...Or Hayden, even, he’s actually quite obvious about it…”

“I don’t know. I’ve been trying not to think about it.” The words came out lightly, yet somehow colder than the wintry air around them.

 _I see now._ “Because of how Elwin died?”

“Leave it!” Everard snarled. “That’s an order!”

 _And suddenly he’s just a kid again._ Scoffing, Gwaine replied, “Last I checked, Ev, you’re not my king anymore.” He turned away. “Let’s get that firewood before we freeze out here. Or Elen sends out a search party.”

Everard didn’t speak to him directly for days after that, and Gwaine found himself recalling with newfound vividness just how withdrawn and difficult Everard had gotten near the end of his life, and wished that he’d been a little more tactful in their confrontation.

He told Elen and Hayden this...he’d made sure all the adults knew about Everard...and his sister said, “He’ll get over it. Everard’s no fool, never was.”

“He’s also an old king who likely feels like he’s trapped in the body of a teenager,” Hayden said. “Compared to him, we’re lucky.”

“Shit, I didn’t think of it like that.” _What’s it going to be like for Elwin? Or Hertha?_

He had ample time to consider that over the next few months. Any plans to go anywhere other than on another brief supply mission had to be put on hold when the snows arrived.

* * *

Something they all learned very quickly was that four adults, two teenagers, and one pre-teen trapped in a small house in midwinter was a sure recipe for frayed nerves and extreme discomfort.

The little white mutt Pearl grew lethargic and died within a few weeks of the first snowfall. Turquoise and Jasper seemed to understand what had happened and became as subdued as their master; only Elen seemed able to get through to Hayden at all. Meanwhile, Everard stayed aloof and Ethan followed his lead, although he showed no signs of remembering who he used to be.

Gwaine found himself spending a lot of time with Leon, reminiscing about Albion when Ethan and Heidi weren’t in earshot and finding other things to talk about when they were. Heidi actually came to like Leon and pestered him constantly about where he was from, what he did, and how he’d survived the apocalypse.

“Sheer luck, mostly,” was Leon’s response to the last question, though he whispered to Gwaine a few moments later later, “and probably some sorcerer’s so called blessing a thousand years ago.”

Despite lack of personal space, constant worry over supplies, and the ever-present cold, Gwaine thought it could have been much worse. _We have a roof over our heads, a decent stash of food, and an old friend back from the dead. Definitely could be worse._

Only, it was still pretty bad when Everard got into a pitched battle with Hayden over the continued survival of the pets...apparently Everard thought the dogs and lizards would be more useful dead than alive, if not very tasty...when supplies started going faster than expected _...We could only gather so much..._ and when Heidi poured boiling over her hand by accident and Elen went frantic over their limited supply of medicine.

“Garth," she said roughly, using his other name due to Ethan being nearby at the time, "I can do quite a bit with what we have, but if she gets _gangrene_ or something…”

“She won’t, sis. You won’t let that happen.”

She turned away at that, grumbling under her breath something like, “Why didn’t I learn some damn healing magic from Mother when I had the chance…”

Fortunately, Heidi’s hand healed well and spring did eventually approach with multiple short thaws and warmer winds. With the decrease in snow and ice, Gwaine found he could look past the lingering tension and anxiety in the house to the future.

“We can’t stay here _forever_ , especially if the weather goes all weird again,” he told Leon as they hacked up more firewood one rather warmish morning. “We won’t be able to feed ourselves eventually. We don’t have the tools to hunt properly, even. I guess Elen could use magic…”

“But what if something happens to her?” Leon said. “You’re right; finding Merlin, or just going somewhere with more people, hopefully trustworthy ones…”

“Like the Isle of Anglesey?” Gwaine brought his axe down through a round of wood. “I kind of want more confirmation of that rumor before we go running across half of England. I’m kind of reluctant to abandon this place completely until we’ve got more information.”

Leon agreed, but in the end the timeline of their leaving it wasn’t up to them.

It was up to the next round of earthquakes.


	8. Chapter 7

It turned out to be a good thing that Everard hadn’t convinced anyone to eat the Turquoise and Jasper, because they sounded the alarm first. Their barking roused everyone before the familiar tremors really got strong enough to wake anyone up. 

Gwaine’s reflexes had him out of bed and on his feet before he completely realized the floor was shaking. As the twins yelped and stumbled into consciousness, he realized, _There are no pauses between tremors. And they’re getting worse by the second._ Just then, his bedside table crashed to the floor. 

Grabbing both teens by their shirts, he shoved them towards the door. “Get out,  _now!_ ” Images of a sinkhole devouring the entire cottage made him backtrack for his father’s long dagger and the winter coat laying on the end of his bed. Then he was rushing out after the twins, nearly colliding with a terrified Heidi as she left her room. He didn’t even think before seizing her and hauling her out of the crumbling cottage. 

Everard and Leon were outside with the now-howling dogs, struggling to keep their balance as the ground rippled under their feet. The many patches of snow left after the most recent thaw were being tossed around in icy showers. 

“Where the hell is your brother?” Gwaine yelled at his cousin, only to get a loud “Here!” from behind him. He dropped Heidi and turned to see Ethan hurtling down the steps with a _goddamn lizard_ in his arms. _Malachite the iguana? Seriously, Elwin?_

Elen and Hayden were right behind, both with various objects in hand. “We have to get further away!” Hayden yelled. “The entire hill is buckling!” To prove his point, one of their useless cars tumbled into an opening crevasse only yards away. 

They all started running without argument. “There’s a lot of fields down the road!” Gwaine shouted, taking the lead and raising his voice above the groaning and cracking of the earth. “No trees to fall on us!” _And hopefully no rock slides. This hill couldn’t be steep enough, surely…_

The next few  hours  felt like a  long visit to the depths of hell. A n out-of-season thunderstorm, unnoticed before, turned  the eastern half of the moonlit night sky a sickly shade of greenish-black and a hot wind swept over the roiling earth. The tremors turned out to be less strong in the flatter landscape below the hill, but getting there involved constant painful tumbles and near-misses with flying trees and rocks. Gwaine heard Heidi scream as she fell and almost went back for her; he saw Leon pick her up and continue on before he could. 

They  scattered across the grassy fields,  running from any obvious ripples in the ground,  only able to see in patches of moonlight and in the moments when lightning  tore through the night .  Finding himself closest to Ethan, Gwaine grabbed his arm and refused to let go; the boy didn’t intentionally pull away once. It took a long time for him to notice that the teen was crying, tears streaming down his face. 

When the tremors began to fade and there was nothing to do but huddle in the nearest patch of bushes as the thunderstorm took over the entire sky and rain came hammering down, Gwaine let his fatherly instincts take over. _I remember a few times when Caldwell and Holly were in a state like this..._ With those memories at the forefront, he held a still-sobbing Ethan like a much younger child until the storm cleared and dawn lit up a shattered landscape.

* * *

They found Leon and Heidi first, the latter trembling and wrapped in the former’s coat. Fortunately, the thunderstorm had chased most of the chill out of the air, and Leon seemed comfortable enough in his t-shirt. “What was that about the weather going weird again?” he said to Gwaine as Ethan hugged his little sister so tightly that she squeaked.

Gwaine laughed shakily and gave his old friend a quick hug before turning to his cousins. “Ethan, you’re strangling her. Are you okay, Heidi?” 

She nodded, pulling out of her brother’s embrace. “I’m okay,” she whispered. “Where’s everyone else?” 

“Over there, I think.” Leon pointed towards the east, where three figures could be seen silhouetted against the sunrise. “Let’s go make sure they’re okay.” 

He hurried off with Heidi in tow, but Ethan held Gwaine back for a minute. “You stayed with me.” 

“Well, yeah, what else was I going to do? Leave you under a bush and go looking for the others in the dark?” 

The teen huffed. “I don’t mean just now, I meant...The skirmish. The one where I...You didn’t leave me.” 

Gwaine stared, his insides going cold at the memory of finding his cousin laying bleeding, broken in the aftermath of a battle with invading northerners. 

“ _Gwaine, go...you have to...follow the survivors, chase them down…”_

“ _I’m not going anywhere, Elwin. I’m staying here until I know you’re okay.”_

Swallowing, he said, “You died in my arms.” 

“I know. It wasn’t so bad…” Elwin let out an unsteady breath. “Everard...He took it badly, didn’t he?” 

“Yeah,” Gwaine said quietly. “He was never quite the same after.” 

“And my wife, Kenna?” 

“She...she remarried; I think she was happy in the end. I mean, she loved you, but…” 

“I understand. I’m glad. She deserved happiness.” Shaking himself, Elwin said, “We should go check on the others.”

The dogs had predictably followed Hayden and Elen, and like the couple they looked fine but waterlogged. Everard, also in one piece, held a very disgruntled-looking iguana. “You dropped him, Ethan,” the former king said sourly. 

His twin just looked at him for a moment. Understanding dawning on Everard’s face, he set down Malachite and in two strides had his brother in a fierce embrace. “ I wasn’t there,” Gwaine heard him say. " _I'm so sorry_."

“It’s okay,” Elwin replied. “I wasn’t alone.” 

Elen gave them a long look as she disentangled herself from Heidi and came to give Gwaine a hug. “Elwin’s back, then?” 

“Elwin’s back.” _Only Heidi is still in the dark now. I think. I hope. For her sake._

* * *

The entire hill looked like a giant had tried to squash it, and the cottage was a complete loss. 

With the aid of a little discrete magic, courtesy of Elen, the adults managed to safely salvage some useful supplies from the rubble while Heidi and the twins held a funeral for poor Agate and Quartz, the bearded dragons. Gwaine wondered vaguely if Malachite cared that his fellow lizards had perished when the roof collapsed.  _He doesn’t look bothered; then again, he’s an iguana. At least the wyverns gave pretty clear indications of how they felt…_

“Maybe I could’ve saved the cottage,” Elen complained during the salvage operation. “Stabilizing spells aren’t my forte, but maybe…” 

“And maybe you would have drained yourself trying to hold the building together, passed out, and been killed as you fell down a crevasse,” Hayden pointed out. “Don’t blame yourself, love; it’s not worth it.” 

Leon walked by with an armful of dirty but intact blankets. “He’s right, you know. Sometimes there’s nothing you can do to stop a tragedy.” 

_He’s probably thinking about how Arthur died._ Leon had been present at the Battle of Camlann, when the druid Mordred had attacked with a foreign army. Gwaine hadn’t been there, but he could remember the sick feeling in his gut when he’d heard the news of the Pendragon’s death. _That was the beginning of the end of the Golden Age, I suppose._

And now, he wouldn’t be surprised if the grand prat was supposed to return. _Maybe he’s back already...Reincarnated like us, perhaps, or just appearing and wandering the countryside...Oh, I’d love to see his reaction to all the cars and technology laying around…_

Hayden’s next words caught his attention. “We’re not going to be able to fix this. We don’t have the tools, the supplies...And if we’re looking at another year like the last…”

“We’re going to have to go somewhere else,” Everard said, approaching with Elwin; Heidi was sitting with the dogs a distance away, looking tired and miserable. “Leon mentioned a possible sanctuary, right? The Isle of Anglesey? We should head there. It can’t be worse than here.” 

“But we should also be looking for answers,” Gwaine insisted. “Leon knows where Gaius might be, and that’s a start, right?” 

“Yes,” Leon said. “Finding Merlin should also be a goal, but that will probably be a lot harder.” 

“We can’t risk everything on _maybe_ finding someone who _might_ have answers,” Everard snapped. “I say we head straight for where we have a chance of being safe. Survival is more important than knowing exactly what’s going on with the world.” Elwin shifted uncomfortably beside him. 

“Those two things don’t have to be mutually exclusive,” Hayden said. 

Eyes flashing, Everard said, “I didn’t ask you,  _Wyverndomitor_ .”

“ _Everard!_ ” Gwaine and Elen exclaimed together. 

_This could get ugly…_

Hayden merely tilted his head. “You’re not  _King_ Everard anymore. You do realize that, don’t you?” 

Scoffing, Everard said harshly, “I have the memories of reigning for decades, and I…” 

“You have the _memories_ of a grown man,” Hayden interrupted. “But you still have the body, hormones, and emotions of a teenage boy. And you don’t have a kingdom anymore.” 

Everard looked ready to punch him. Seeming to notice this, Elwin put a hand on his arm and said, “Why can’t we do both? Get answers and get somewhere safe? I overheard you guys talking about Gaius once...Didn't understand then, but Leon said he could be in York? That’s kind of on the way to Wales, right?” 

“Further east than a direct route, but yes,” Leon agreed. 

“Close enough,” Elen said. “And if we can’t find Gaius reasonably quickly…”

“We head on to Anglesey,” Gwaine finished. “Can we all agree on that plan?” 

Everyone except Everard gave a verbal agreement, and he didn’t protest further. And so, after months of tense waiting, a plan was abruptly in place. 

_Now we just have to survive the few hundred miles of God knows what in between us and our destinations._


	9. Chapter 8

“I’ll do a lot for you, Hal, but I am _not_ sleeping with that lizard!”

Emerging from a nearby patch of woods with an armful of wood and catching Elen’s exasperated proclamation, he turned to Gwaine wide-eyed. “Um...What am I missing?” 

Heidi, perched on a rock,  petting  the dogs , and watching the drama unfold, spoke up cheerfully before Gwaine could. “Malachite is cold, so Hal thinks he should sleep with him and Helen.”

“Okay…” Leon blinked. “Haven’t we just been giving the iguana his own blanket at night?” 

“It hasn’t been warm enough, even with the spring winds.” 

Gwaine stifled a laugh as his sister brushed past him, muttering, “At least the  _wyverns_ were useful.”

“Malachite can stay with me!” Elwin called from over by the small campfire. “I like him.” 

“In that case, you’re not sleeping anywhere near me,” Everard said, wrinkling his nose.

“Fine.” His twin elbowed him. “You snore, anyway.”

“I do _not_!” 

Gwaine smiled and turned back to sorting their  remaining  supplies. They had been traveling for almost a week now, and considering the circumstances, spirits were,  in general, quite a bit higher now that they were  _going_ somewhere.  Even Everard hadn’t been at all unpleasant for days. 

However, the lightness among the group could probably also be attributed to nervous hysteria. Just the other day, for instance, Leon had burst out laughing while looking over their best map. In response to everyone’s questions, he’d said, between snorts, “It just occurred to me that...that the heart of the Perilous Lands...where they used to be...It’s _Liverpool_.” He’d dissolved into laughter again, and they hadn’t gotten another sensible word out of him on the subject.

_We’re getting close to York now._ _We’ll get there tomorrow, most likely._ So far, they had avoided towns  and only come across three groups of people. The first was an older couple on a farm who only wanted to be left alone. The second was a half dozen friendly uni students traveling from Hull to the Isle of Anglesey by a more direct route than the Barclay group; they’d shared a camp for the night and bartered information and some supplies. It had been nice to talk to other people, honestly, and Gwaine for one was sad to see them go. 

The third group of four he and Elen had encountered while scouting ahead just the day before the lizard’s bed situation came up. Those strangers...bandits, rather...had attacked without provocation; they hadn’t lasted long against Elen. 

“I need a damn sword,” Gwaine had said after the metaphorical dust settled. “Then I could help. You’re not going to be able to battle all our enemies at once forever.” 

“Well, if we see a medieval sword shop, dear brother, we’ll raid it.” 

Gwaine thought about it again as they all settle down to sleep with Leon taking first watch. _Dad’s dagger collection and the bandits’ knives we all have won’t be enough if Elen’s not around and we’re attacked by something bigger than a dog...I haven’t felt the faintest inkling of magic in myself so far._

He kind of missed a time when decent swords were easy to find. _In ruined castle armories, for instance...There were so many around..._ He fell asleep dwelling on that. 

* * *

They didn’t need a very high hill as a vantage point to be able to see that the center of York had become another giant sinkhole. 

“Well, shit,” Gwaine said. 

“The suburbs look mostly intact,” Leon pointed out with some optimism. “I’m pretty sure Gaius lived and practiced in the suburbs.” 

“They look intact...where they’re not _burnt_ ,” Everard corrected. 

_ A lot of the town around the sinkhole does look charred. _ “Well, can’t hurt to look, eh?” 

The looking lasted the rest of the day, and by the end Gwaine wished he’d made someone stay back and keep Heidi as far away from the rubble of York as possible. 

It was the first time they’d seen a lot of human bodies  since the apocalypse began; many were charred by the fires that had swept the streets months ago or mangled by hungry animals, or both.  The spring thaws hadn’t improved the condition of the corpses, either. 

“Don’t look, Heidi,” Elwin said early on, hugging his sister to him. “Just close your eyes if it’s too much and I’ll guide you.” 

The girl nodded and complied, but her face remained a shade of green as they continued. Hayden seemed veer close to a panic attack every hour or so, and Elen actually started retching a few times. Gwaine knew that he, Leon, and Everard weren’t doing much better. 

“It’s useless,” Everard announced eventually. Evening drew close, and everything around them remained devoid of life...other than several groups of noisy crows and distant howls that set everyone on edge. “There’s no one here. Unless Gaius moved on, he’s dead, too.” 

“Why is it so important to find him, anyway?” Heidi whimpered, but no one answered.

_What would we say? She thinks he's just a friend of Leon's._

Said former knight chose that moment to come back from a very brief scouting mission. “There’s a church up ahead,  bit drafty but it’s intact and empty. We can stay there tonight.”

They did, and in the morning Gwaine awoke with the others to find Hayden missing. The initial rush of panic from everyone faded when they found him on the church steps, standing still and silent as a stone. 

“What’s going on?” Elen asked, stepping close to him. “Are you okay?” 

“Do you hear that?” was all he said. 

Closing his eyes,  Gwaine listened for a minute. _Oh. Of_ course _Hayden heard that first._

“What is it?” Everard demanded. 

Eyes open again, Gwaine grinned at his cousin. “Wyvern calls.”

“They’re hunting,” Hayden murmured. “And they’re frustrated by the hunt.” 

“I thought wyverns were fantasy!” Heidi squeaked.

“Not anymore, apparently,” Elen said. “So, are we going to go see what they’re hunting?” 

* * *

In the middle of the overgrown ornamental gardens of a forgotten park a couple miles from the church, sat a sort of tiny model abbey made of stone. Three full-grown wyverns kept swarming it, clawing at the too-small windows and shrieking with frustration. 

With Heidi, Elwin, the iguana, and the dogs left barricaded in an abandoned shop nearby, the rest of the group approached the abbey cautiously. “There’s definitely someone in there,” Gwaine whispered when he got a good look at what the wyverns were doing. “We should help them, whoever it is.” _Maybe it’s Gaius. If we’re lucky. I think we’re lucky. Maybe._

“How are we supposed to get rid of the wyverns?” Leon asked. “We don’t even have swords, let alone spears or crossbows, which I would prefer in this fight!” 

“And wyverns are resistant to most magic,” Elen said. “Not _immune_ , but resistant. That’ll make subduing them harder.” 

Gwaine looked to Hayden, who shrugged. “I can’t call off wyverns I didn’t raise and train. I can tell you how they will likely attack, but I think you already know all that from experience.” 

“So what’s the plan?” Everard said. “Sit here until they leave?” 

“Well…” Glancing back the way they’d come, Gwaine said, “I did see some nice bamboo plants growing back there by one of the houses. We have plenty of knives, could fashion some makeshift spears...Elen could lure them with a magic distraction, then cover our retreat…Only if you’re up for it, sis.”

“I don’t like that plan,” Hayden said. “At all.” 

Elen ignored her husband and didn’t hesitate. “Okay, let’s do it.” 

Thirty minutes later, Gwaine, Leon, and Everard were armed with  two fairly clumsy bamboo spears...tipped with smaller daggers...each and hiding behind a strip of hedge. Across a gap in the hedge directly in front of the abbey’s main doors, Elen and Hayden crouched, the latter holding the group’s longest available dagger. 

They all exchanged glances. Elen gave a look that seemed to say, “it’s now or never,” and stepped out from behind the shed, summoning a fireball in each hand with a shouted command. 

It got the wyverns’ attention. With piercing shrieks, they sprang off the abbey roof and hurtled towards her. 

The fireballs arced upward from her hands, surrounding the creatures in flames as they swooped down to here. Vision obscured, they flailed, and Gwaine yelled, “Now!” 

Things got very confusing after that. He thrust one spear at the nearest wyvern, missing the relatively soft underbelly and breaking the weapon on its tough side instead. He dove sideways to avoid being swiped by razor-sharp claws, only to be nearly crushed by another wyvern as it fell to the ground in its death throes, three spears sticking out of it. Clutching his second spear, Gwaine clambered behind the body, using it as a shield as the wyvern he’d gone after lunged towards him. 

He laughed out loud as he realized  _This is my first real battle in over a thousand years._

With that in mind, he drew back, aimed, and threw.

The wyvern screamed and tumbled away, crashing into a patch of rosebushes and flailing weakly among them. Gwaine shouted in victory at the sight. 

Then h is mind went back over the chaos, and he remembered hear ing Elen scream.

Turning and rushing through the smoke- filled air , Gwaine found Elen kneeling by the twitching body of the third wyvern. “Hayden!” she screamed, yanking at the beast’s heavy legs. “ _Hayden!_ ” 

Leon and Everard were already beside her, and Gwaine joined them in hauling the creature off the crumpled form of his brother-in-law. The long dagger fell from his limp hand as they freed him; he was drenched in wyvern blood. 

“It came after me,” Elen choked out, “Hayden pushed me and went under it...it fell on him…”

“I meant to get it,” Leon said anxiously. “But Everard had already used both his spears and needed help..."

“He has a pulse,” Everard said, his fingers on the blond man’s wrist. “It’s fairly strong, but that doesn’t mean he’s not hurt…”

“Thanks for that, cousin,” Gwaine said, carefully feeling Hayden’s limbs for breaks. “Shit, that doesn’t feel good…” 

Elen reached over to check and concurred. “One broken arm, at least...He’s still unconscious...if he was hit on the head…”

“I cannot see how he wouldn’t have been,” a new voice said. “Perhaps I should take a look?” 

Gwaine shut his eyes for a second, thanking every single deity that he’d ever heard of for sheer improbable luck. 

Elen seemed to have a similar reaction. “Please do,” she said, turning towards the stooped figure standing a few yards away. “After all, you do know more about healing than all of us combined, Gaius.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love reunions :)


	10. Chapter 9

In-depth greetings and explanations had to wait until Gaius had patched up Hayden with the medical supplies he had  in the abbey. There were also people in there:  a middle-aged married couple with two young daughters, a teenage couple,  three  older uni students , and a retired man. Most were friends or former patients of Gaius’s.  M onths ago they had been avoiding the widespread fires in York and found the stone model abbey to be a  relatively safe place  to winter . Recently they’d been attempting to spread out, to find more people and supplies, but just days earlier the wyverns had arrived and driven them back  to their refuge. 

“We barricaded ourselves in; we don’t have any weapons worth speaking of,” the middle-aged man, James, told Gwaine while Gaius and Elen tended to Hayden and Everard and Leon were off fetching the rest of their group. “Those... _things_ wouldn’t let up for a second.”

The younger of James’s two daughters, who looked about eight,  detached herself from her mother and sister and came over to cling to him. He stroked her hair. “It’s okay,  Emma. The monsters are gone. Our new friends  got rid of them .” 

The little girl squinted up at Gwaine. “How’d you do it?” she said shyly. 

He smiled down at her. “Practice,” he said, adding, “We’ve...met some of those creatures before.” 

“I just wish we knew where they came from.” The teenagers had been listening in, and the taller, darker one of the two spoke almost bitterly. “Nothing makes sense anymore. _Lizards don’t fly_.” 

“Ruby…” her girlfriend started, but Ruby shook her head.

“You know I’m right, Amelie. _None_ of this should be possible!” 

“Not according to what most people believe,” Gwaine said. “But I think everyone’s just going to have to revise what they believe. Not saying it’s going to be easy.”

_I feel bad for all of them, honestly. I can remember a time of myth and magic. They don’t have that; they’re just being thrown headfirst into it._

Because, as Gaius  quietly told him and Leon while handing them bowls of thin canned soup for dinner,  “ From the wyverns, among other things, i t’s clear that m agic is returning...and I fear that includes both the good and the bad.”

They all spent the night in the rather crowded abbey; Hayden regained consciousness briefly before nightfall and managed to say, “I still like wyverns, darling,” to his wife. According to Gaius, he did have a badly broken arm, a concussion, and a lot of nasty bruises, but would make a full recovery in time. 

The abbey group hadn’t heard about the Isle of Anglesey, and were definitely intrigued. Whispered conversations between twos and threes went on late into the night. 

Unable to sleep, Gwaine went for a walk around the abbey after everyone’s voices had died out.  As he came back around to the front door, he found Gaius sitting on the front step. “See anything of note?” the physician inquired. 

“No. All quiet; the wyverns are still dead.” Gwaine sat down next to him, grateful for modern fleece-lined coats on chilly nights. “We’d hoped that Merlin had found you.” 

“Leon said as much earlier.” Gaius sighed heavily. “I wish he had.” 

They sat in silence for a minute, then  the older man  said, “Elen told me about your parents, your aunt and uncle,  your cousin Aldwyn .  I am so very sorry for your loss.” 

“Yeah, well…” Gwaine looked up at the scattered clouds and stars. “Sometimes I have to tell myself to stop wishing they were here. ‘Cause they’re not, and never will be.” _No miracles, not this time around._ _Not for Father, Mother, Harlan, Aldora, Aldwyn...Who even knows about Haralda..._

Pause. “It is a great gift, I suppose...being able to live twice,” Gaius said, “But at the same time...we’ve all lost so much.” Another sigh, then, “It’s too cold for my old bones out here. And I’m sure you need to rest.” 

* * *

The uni students didn’t want to leave York, for various reasons, but everyone else was glad to join the group headed for the Isle of Anglesey. For them, even the hope of some kind of sanctuary was better than staying in one place, surrounded by the thousands upon thousands of ghosts.

Gwaine, Leon, and Everard  fixed up  some more bamboo spears and gave the three people staying at the abbey some pointers in how to use them, in case more wyverns made an appearance. Other than that, there was little to do than divide up medical and food supplies and start the long journey ahead; they left York only four days after their initial arrival. 

They avoided towns but used the roads littered with abandoned cars and luggage as often as possible. This made it easier on everyone, at least until they came across areas where the roads had been shredded by earthquakes. 

“This would happen even off the roads,” George, the second-oldest person in the group and an old friend of Gaius’s in this life, said when Gwaine apologized yet again for the rough going. “Damn quakes screwed everything, didn’t they?”

Otherwise, the trip went as smoothly as could be expected in a post-apocalyptic England. James and his wife Mary actually knew much of landscape between York and North Wales and were a big help with navigation. Their daughters, Emma and ten-year-old Ellie, were almost no trouble at all despite their ages and soon became fast friends with Heidi. Ruby and Amelie had a knack for ferreting out more supplies when the opportunity arose. When weariness set in among the travelers, George would start telling long, rambling stories that were usually hilarious and kept everyone going a few miles longer. 

Gaius, of course, was as invaluable as he had always been in Camelot. Hayden, left arm in a sling and moving slower than normal, submitted to being checked over twice a day by the physician while continuing to be perpetually glum. He was the only person who never laughed at George’s stories, and he rarely smiled at anything else  or even spoke . As days passed, Gwaine sensed even Elen was beginning to lose her patience with him. 

“He’s not upset about the wyverns, is he? Or maybe he's still in a lot of pain? I know you've been slipping him painkillers...” 

“I doubt it's the wyverns. He was always reasonable about wild ones dying if it was necessary…” Elen scowled at nothing. “Honestly, he’s been a bit like this since I met him...this time around, I mean.” 

“He’s remembered his past life ever since you met him.” 

“I know. But that means I have no other frame of reference…” Elen stopped speaking as Mary approached with a question about the evening meal. 

And that was the other awkward thing. Gwaine, Elen, and the twins had all given their “second life” names in order to maintain secrecy for their new companions and Heidi. Mixing up “Hal” and “Hayden” didn’t cause any noticeable stir as it seemed to be accepted that the former could be a shortened version of the latter.  Leon just went with his “unusual” name as he had been. Gaius was lucky enough to have been named the same thing twice.

But it was getting harder and harder not to slip up. Personally, Gwaine felt less and less like Garth Barclay by the day, as decades more of old memories started taking precedence over his newer ones. Elen kept casting small spells far to close to people who weren’t supposed to know about magic, and the twins kept stumbling over their names whenever they spoke to each other. Heidi started complaining about weird dreams again. 

Naturally, things all came to a head when a group of bandits attacked. 

Because of  _course_ they did. 

They were deep in Wales, traveling along a winding seaside roadway and enjoying the sunny day and lovely view when at least  two dozen  armed men and women descended from the rolling bluffs, blocking the road in front and behind the travelers. 

_Let’s see...our knives and a couple makeshift spears against spiked clubs, larger knives, and a_ _couple_ _firearms. Doesn’t seem like good odds._

Gwaine had once enjoyed playing worse odds, but he wasn’t willing to with innocents on the line. Turning to Elen, he said, “You got this?” 

Eyes widening, she glanced behind them at the rest of the group; everyone had weapons out and most looked terrified. “You mean…” 

“Look, they’re gonna find out someday. Might as well be while you’re saving all our lives.”

“What are you talking about?” James demanded, immediately echoed by Ruby. 

The bandits started shouting warnings, and Elen let out resigned sigh. “Fine.  _**Forbearnan!** _ ”

In front of them, fire leapt into being upon the line of bandits. As their threats dissolved into screams, Elen spun around. “ _**Ástríce! W** _ _**áce** _ _**ierlic!** _ ”  Bodies went flying back, writhing through the air. 

Among the bandits set on fire, Gwaine saw one raising a gun.  _No way I’d reach him in time..._ “Elen! Behind you!”

Whirling, she saw what he did and shouted, “ _**Scildan!** _ ” as a gunshot rang out. The bullet, along with the two that followed it, clattered harmlessly to the cracked pavement. Elen’s eyes flashed gold once again. “ _**Swilte!** _ ” The man collapsed. 

The few bandits on either side that hadn’t been incapacitated or taken off running or been incapacitated yet rushed forward, only to be met by Gwaine, Leon, and Everard, who, faced now with mere hand-to-hand weapons, had little trouble subduing them. 

Gwaine did see Everard stumble, almost overwhelmed by his opponent, but the man staggered back a moment later as Elwin threw a dagger into his chest with impeccable aim. And, suddenly, it was over. 

Standing in the near-silence, surrounded by bodies, Gwaine looked towards those who hadn’t been involved in the fight, who didn’t know the distant past, and saw even more fear than before. 

“What. The. _Hell_.” Ruby whispered. 

“Who are you people?” James said shakily. “And what...what…” He pointed at Elen. “What _is_ she?”

“I’m a sorceress,” Elen said calmly, brushing off her jacket. “Magic is real, those ‘monsters’ that trapped you in the abbey were wyverns, and while we are looking for a safe place to live, our eventual mission is to find a supposedly-immortal sorcerer who might know why the world seems to be ending. Any questions?” 

“You couldn’t have phrased that more delicately?” Gaius said after a stunned pause. “I would’ve thought Ela had at least taught you a bedside manner.” 

“Tact was Father’s specialty,” Elen said. “And he wasted it on Gwaine.”

“Wouldn’t call it a waste,” Heidi said from over by the road’s railing. She had her arms around Ellie and Emma, but her attention was entirely on the adults. “Gwaine was pretty tactful by the time he came creeping home from Camelot.” 

“I did not _creep_!” Gwaine protested without thinking. Then, _Oh, shit. It finally happened._

The twins exchanged looks. “Hertha’s back,” Elwin said cheerfully. 

Everyone other than the Barclayns, Hayden, Leon, and Gaius looked more dumbfounded than ever. “All right,” Mary said, taking charge like the mother she was. “We are staying _right here_ until someone explains what on _Earth_ is going on!”

“It’s a long story,” Sir Leon said in his best “I’m the reasonable person here” voice. “And you might not believe it.” 

“Right now, I think we’re ready to believe anything,” Amelie said. 

No one had an argument for that. Except…

“Can we just move away from all the burning bodies?” Hayden said. “They smell. My wife really does get carried away sometimes.” 


	11. Chapter 10

“So, Hertha,” Gwaine said conversationally as he wrung out yet another piece of soaking wet clothing. “Do you think they believe us, or do they think we’re all escapees from a mental hospital?”

She giggled. “Escapees from a mental hospital, definitely.”

Chuckling, Gwaine looked along the riverbank, where everyone else was busy getting water out of their own supplies. The closest bridge across a north-bound river they’d been planning on crossing that morning had collapsed during past earthquakes, and fording hadn’t been easy. “Seriously, though, what do you think?”

They hadn’t gone very far after the bandit incident the day before; just a mile or so past where the attack had taken place, they’d found a good spot to camp for the night, and the rest of the afternoon and evening had been taken up with rambling explanations and clarifications like, “Yes, magic is a real thing; if you want more proof we can manage it,” and “No, this isn’t anything to do with hallucinogens,” and “Yeah, that King Arthur did actually exist, though not quite like you may have heard before.”

“I think Ruby and James don’t believe us at all.” Hertha’s brow furrowed, her eyes following Ellie and Emma as they shrieked and chased the dogs up and down the riverbank. “The others...maybe. Give them time. It’s hard to completely discredit myth and magic after seeing Elen in action.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Gwaine gave his youngest cousin a sidelong glance as she returned to her task. “Are you doing okay? With the memories and everything.”

“Um…” She half-smiled without looking at him. “Ask me in a year, maybe?”

“Everard had it pretty rough, I think, when he remembered. Elwin, too.”

“At least Elwin’s not being a grumpy bastard.”

 _Seeing an almost-thirteen-year-old talk say words like that reminds me of Holly._ Shaking that off, he said, “My point is, if you need to talk, need help working things out...I’m here. Elen, too.”

“I know.” This time, she looked at him when she smiled. “I’ll be okay, Gwaine. May be a while...but I’ll make it. We all will.”

Shaking his head, he reached over and ruffled her hair. “You’re something else, little cousin.”

She rolled her eyes and smacked halfheartedly at his hand. “Not so little anymore... _unfortunately_.”

He almost didn’t hear the last word; she said it so quietly.

* * *

Over the course of the day, the weather alternated between sunny yet cool and light, chilly mist rolling over the craggy hills to the south. Besides the two youngest people in the group, who seemed to be taking the whole “magic exists; Camelot existed,” thing in stride, and Mary, who had the best ideas for routes, no one spoke much as they continued on. The widespread silence got oppressive after a while, and even George didn’t seem inclined to break it.

Walking with his sister, Gwaine finally said, “This used to be the kingdom of Gwynedd.”

“Under Caerleon, right?”

 _Until Arthur killed him, yeah._ “Later it was ruled by his queen, Annis. She was tough, let me tell you.”

He could feel Elen’s piercing look without seeing it. “Cleva was from here.”

“Don’t. Just don’t. I’m not going there.”

“Gwaine…”

“You got your husband back, Elen. That’s not a guarantee I’ll get to see my wife again.” That ended the conversation.

Evening began to fall not long afterward. “If we keep following this road and it’s not destroyed by quakes, we should reach the first of the two bridges to Anglesey tomorrow,” Mary said as they all took a break to consult the map. “If that’s gone we can go south to the next...Hopefully at least one’s still standing.”

“Okay,” Leon said, “let’s find a place to make camp and…”

A long, loud howl interrupted him. Everyone looked around nervously, instinctively moving closer together and shielding the kids. The dogs growled softly.

“There aren’t supposed to be any wolves in the UK!” Ruby exclaimed. “How are they even _here_?”

“I don’t know, the same way wyverns are?” Hayden suggested.

“So...magic,” Amelie ventured.

James turned to Elen. “That likely?”

“I’m a sorceress, not an expert in wolves. I suppose it’s likely that magic is involved...how exactly, I have no idea.”

“Well…” Gwaine hesitated as another howl echoed through the twilight. “Let’s build a fire, make some torches. Wolves don’t usually attack groups of people, but let’s be safe.”

Wood wasn’t in short supply as they were surrounded by swaths of forest. A lot of it was wet, so Elen lit an entire large pile with a word.

Gwaine saw James jump slightly and move as if to block his children...who were sitting on a log with their mother, eating dinner...from the sorceress’s sight. The next time he walked past the man, Gwaine made a point to say quietly, “Elen’s not going to hurt your kids.”

“I want to believe that,” James said defensively, “But if you were a parent…”

“I was a parent, long ago.” Gwaine clenched his jaw, taking a breath before he added, “So was Elen...and Hayden, and Leon, and Everard, for that matter. We know you’re scared. But we’re not your enemy.” Several howls filled the quiet of the night, overlapping in a haunting and alarmingly loud melody. “Case in point.”

“I don’t like how close the wolves are getting,” Leon called from where he stood guard at the edge of camp, a torch in hand.

Gwaine picked up his own torch and lit it in the fire. “I’m with you on that.”

* * *

Hours passed, the stars and a full moon came often hidden by clouds came out, and the dozen or so likely-not-usual-wolves kept circling. No one slept.

Near the glowing fire, Mary held her daughters and Amelie resorted supplies while Hertha told long, ancient tales, sitting cross-legged with Malachite perched in her lap. Across from them, George and Gaius spoke in low tones. Everyone else, dogs included, paced or stood guard, armed with weapons and torches. Elen attempted to scare the wolves off with a few magic spells, but nothing seemed to work and they remained just enough in the shadows that she hadn’t a hope of killing them all from a distance, not without doing something incredibly dangerous like setting the entire area on fire.

“Can’t you spell yourself to see in the dark or something?” Ruby said at one point.

Elen snorted. “If I knew a spell for that, maybe I would!”

James looked ready to weigh in, but Hayden spoke before he could. “Magic doesn’t make people invincible. And Turquoise and Jasper are smelling a possible new threat.”

Taking a closer look at the dogs standing alertly on either side of the master, Gwaine said, “Are you sure? They look like they’re acting almost the same as they’ve been…”

“Trust me. They smell something other than the wolves right now.”

Elwin groaned. “I _really_ wish you still had the wyverns, Hayden.”

“Give him enough time in this strange new world and I’m sure he’ll have some,” Everard said. “Hayden, are your dogs giving any clues as to direction?”

“Probably southwest.”

Elwin’s “Well, _that’s_ specific,” was mostly lost as a chorus of howls and snarls erupted up a nearby hill, accompanied by very human shouts and several bright beams of light cutting through the darkness.

“They have electric torches!” Elwin yelled.

 _Is that really the important part here?_ Gwaine thought. “Yeah, and they’re drawing all the wolves to them. Elen, Leon, Everard, Elwin, with me!” Torch in one hand and long dagger in the other, he charged towards the sound of the fight.

The moon had begun to emerge from behind a cloud, so up on the hill without many trees around, the lighting could have been much worse.

That didn’t stop the entire fight from being an utter mess complete with people screaming, people falling down, people tackling and being tackled by wolves that were honestly too large to be normal, and people nearly setting each other on fire and taking each other’s heads off by accident.

After one hulking figure nearly did the last to Gwaine... _Lucky bastard has an actual sword..._ he shouted, “Oi, watch it, big man!”

“ _You_ watch it, little man!” Then the towering man halted in mid-stride. “Wait... _Gwaine_?”

“ _Percival?_ ”

They certainly would have been torn to bits by the massive beast that lunged towards them a second later, if Elen hadn’t sent it flying the other way with a spell. “ _Stop ogling each other and watch your damn backs!_ ”

A familiar, imperious voice sounded over the chaos. “What she said!”

When the last two or three wolves fled, the battle turned instantly into a sort of reunion, because Percival wasn’t the only old friend present. Elyan was there, and Lancelot, and the ruler of all noble and idiotic himself, _Arthur Pendragon_.

Gwaine would’ve been far more excited to greet them all properly if he and Elwin weren’t occupied with physically keeping Everard from punching his older sister Haralda in the face.

“You _left_ us!” the teenager roared, struggling against his captors. “After we lost Mom, and Dad, _and_ Alan! You just dumped us off on the cousins...How _dare_ you! You couldn’t even be bothered to _look_ for us when the bloody _world_ started to end?”

Even in the moonlight, Haralda looked ashamed. Swinging her bloodstained axe to and fro, she began, “I...I thought about it…”

“Clearly not hard enough!”

“Everard, just calm down!” Elwin pleaded. “She’s still our sister! And she’s survived! Isn’t that a good thing?”

Gwaine looked to Elen for help, but she was ignoring the family part of this reunion in favor of getting right into Arthur’s face and demanding, “ _Where’s Emrys?_ ”

Arthur handled it pretty well. “You mean Merlin? I don’t know; I haven’t seen him since I died, oh, fifteen hundred years ago or so.”

Elen sighed. “Well, shit.”

Before anyone else could comment...and plenty of people looked ready to...Ruby’s voice came up the slope. “What the _hell_ is going on up there?”

“We’re alive!” Leon called.

Everard went limp, and after seeing that Elwin still had his grip on him, Gwaine let go and turned to the others. “Another good question is: what are all of you doing here?”

“We’re part of a settlement on the Isle of Anglesey,” Elyan said. “There’s lots of people...Anyway, we were on a hunting trip and heard the wolves…”

“This sort have been a problem around here,” Percival put in. “We thought it sounded like they were hunting.”

“Tell me Heidi’s okay,” Haralda said suddenly, voice taut. “Is she with you?”

“ _Hertha_ is fine,” Everard snarled. “And yes, she’s with the others down by the bonfire.”

“How many others?” Lancelot asked.

“Three men, three women, and three kids, counting Hertha as one of those,” Leon replied.

Gwaine grinned. “We have Gaius, by the way.”

“ _Our_ Gaius?” Arthur’s face broke into a broad smile. “Oh, thank the gods. Some things just keep getting better, and I mean that.”

* * *

It took Gwaine the length of the walk to the bonfire to process that _Arthur_ himself was back, along with Elyan, Percival, and Lancelot, who had really gotten the short end of the stick in his past life. Once back with the others, however, the reunion really got underway, with hugs, introductions, and very confused recounting of the past year.

_I feel a bit badly for James, Mary, and the others. Just yesterday, they found out magic was real. Today, they got introduced to the legendary King Arthur._

Arthur had apparently led a group of four dozen people, including Elyan and Gwen, away from the insanity of crumbling London to Anglesey in the early months of the apocalypse. Much of the population on the island had been wiped out by a fast-acting, unrecognized plague before Arthur and his group even got there, and the survivors had been reluctant to welcome anyone. But in time, they had found a way to work together, along with others who came seeking sanctuary.

“Anglesey has plenty of room for farming, and seemed like a somewhat fortifiable location in case of any attacks by militant groups,” Arthur explained. “I was also thinking of potential retreat strategies...The funny thing is, I didn’t have my old memories then. Didn’t get them until halfway across England.”

“Same with me and Gwen,” Elyan said.

Percival and Haralda had happened to be staying on Holyhead Island, adjacent to Anglesey, when things started to get bad. Lancelot had arrived sometime after Arthur.

And no one had seen or heard anything about Merlin, or anything definite as to why the apocalypse had occurred.

But for the moment, one issue had been solved. The next day, the entire group set off for Anglesey, certain now of the safe haven’s existence.

_Well, it’s as safe as we’re going to get in this world._

Tensions among the Barclayns were still running high as they approached the island, and it was Hertha who told Gwaine, “Haralda’s hiding something.”

“Sure she’s not just feeling guilty for abandoning you kids? _Hell, I’m still angry about that myself._ “She hasn’t been talking much.”

“It’s more than that. I heard her tell Percival, ‘let it be a surprise.’”

“A surprise, huh? Hope it’s a good one.” _Right now, I just want to get everyone to safety._

The bridges to the island had collapsed months ago, so a large raft was the only reliable way across the channel. It only fit half of the group at a time, and Gwaine waited for the second ride. Among the others who waited with him was Arthur, who took a moment to say, “I’m glad you’re here, Gwaine.”

“Glad to be here.” Pause. “We’ll find Merlin. Or he'll find us.”

“I hope you’re right. We need him.”

The raft returned with Percival and Lancelot rowing, and they boarded, heading across to join the others.

Guinevere was there, greeting everyone enthusiastically whether or not she knew them already, but Gwaine’s attention was immediately caught by someone else.

“You’re alive.”

“Yes, I suppose I am.” Cleva looked up at him with sparkling eyes and said. “Are you just going to stand there like a bewildered goat? I mean, you could if you wanted.”

He laughed and kissed his wife instead, and for a minute, it felt like the Golden Age had already come again.


	12. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy when I don't think I'll get a chapter up one day and then I just manage it!  
> As it will come up in the chapter, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch is a real town in Anglesey. Fun fact: it has the longest official place name in Europe, and the second-longest in the world. :)

“It’s strange, isn’t it,” Cleva said, “how people who were close to each other all those years ago found each other again in this life. Take Haralda and Percival, for example. They found each other before even getting their memories back.” 

Eyes still closed, Gwaine mumbled an assent and slid further under the blankets, prompting her to say playfully, “Am I boring you? You do realize it’s almost time to get up, right?” 

“Aw, don’t say that.” He rolled around and wrapped his arms around her, dragging her down from her sitting position. “And yeah, it’s strange, just like the fact that we’re alive again at all. But that’s magic for you.”

“Hmm.” She didn’t resist, instead cuddling as close as physically possible. “I wish I knew if my parents were the same people this time around.” Born as Charlotte in the late 20th century, Cleva had been given up by her birth mother as a baby and raised by an older couple who’d passed away a couple years before the apocalypse. “I loved my adoptive parents; they were wonderful...but I wish I knew for sure. I would’ve liked to know my father from before better...You at least had your parents again.” 

Seeing another five minutes of sleep was not in the cards, Gwaine said, “Yeah, I did. Also got to see the twins grow up, and Hertha as a young child...Me and Elen are closer, too. I’m glad of that.” 

Spring morning sunlight filtered into the room between the faded yellow curtains found throughout the comfortable, two-story house they now shared with the rest of the Barclayns as well as James and Mary’s family. The center of new Anglesey was the coastal village called Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch, or Llanfairpwllgwyngyll, or Llanfair Pwllgwyngyll, or Llanfairpwll, or Llanfair PG. Or just “the village,” by people who hadn’t managed to learn Welsh pronunciation yet. The several larger villages in the area, including Holyhead on the island of the same name, had been hit hard by quakes and plague. 

Llanfairpwll, on the other hand, was mostly intact, even if about half of its original population had died in the past year, or left for various reasons. Now the population of the village hovered at about three thousand, close to its past number, with another couple thousand more scattered in smaller groups around the island. Communication and cooperation among groups had been mostly good so far. 

In the two weeks since arriving, Gwaine and the others had already settled into a new rhythm of life. Mary had joined the staff of the settlement’s part-time school, which Gwen had started; children still needed to be taught, after all. Gaius now lived by and worked at the village health center, along with several other medical professionals. Almost everyone else had been drafted into arguably the most important two jobs in the settlement: structure maintenance and farming. 

Everyone needed somewhere to live, and three thousand plus people required a lot of food, and supplies from the past year were very low, given that few people had been able to keep any crops alive. The livestock that remained also required attention; Hayden had quickly become part of that.

Naturally, most of the tension that erupted in Anglesey involved food, which had been rationed by the jokingly-named “Town Council” for a long time now. Somehow, over the past few months, Arthur had managed to find his way into being the most influential person on said council.

_I’m not surprised, and I’m not complaining, either._

Despite many mistakes in the early years, Arthur had been an incredible leader for a long time. Him stepping back into a similar role made sense.

_A lot of survivors here have valuable skills. But most of them aren’t experienced leaders, not like him._

And, oddly enough, a lot of people seemed to know that he at least believed himself to be  _the_ King Arthur. Reincarnation had been easier to accept when evidence of magic started becoming more widespread. Wyverns, gigantic wolves, and other once-mythical creatures abounded, and two unrelated people on Anglesey...and not ones with past lives...had started showing signs of magical talent. 

Literally the day after Elen had arrived, Arthur had asked her to be their teacher. “There was a time when I never thought I’d say this, but with the world like it is, we’ll need anyone with magic to know how to use it constructively.” Gaius, despite his magical talent staying more dormant than not in modern times, offered to be an instructor too if either of the new sorcerers...a teenage boy and a twenty-year-old woman...seemed to have a healing talent.

Gwaine, along with Leon, the other former knights, and about three dozen volunteers spent around half their time training for combat and hunting. Over the winter, Arthur had convinced the other leaders of the settlement that a defensive force trained in using both the relatively few firearms the settlement possessed and the larger number of “old fashioned” weapons. Namely, swords, longbows, crossbows, and spears. Somehow, various survivors had amassed quite a lot, and made some, too. 

“I’ve had to be a blacksmith lately more than anything else,” Elyan told Gwaine one day. “Fortunately I’ve got a couple students, and they’re ready to learn fast.”

He also agreed with Gwaine that sometimes, training with Arthur bellowing at them really brought back the good old days in Camelot, and it was wonderful. 

So, in spite of constant concerns over food, medicine, and protection, Gwaine thought life in the settlement wasn’t half bad.  _We’d all feel better if Merlin were here, but for now, I’ve got family, friends, purpose…_

He moaned in complaint as Cleva made another move to get out of bed. “Come on, _darling_ …”

“We all have work to do, Gwaine.” She laughed as he scrunched up his face at her. Dropping a kiss on his lips, she pulled out of his grasp and swung herself out of bed. “Haven’t you got training this morning?” 

“Ugh, yes. Don’t want Arthur hollering at me. Now _that_ brings back memories...”

Downstairs, the kitchen was crowded. Ellie and Emma chattered and giggled over breakfast while their parents attempted to clean up the mess that was the aftermath of cooking over a hearth instead of on a modern stove when one still wasn’t used to it. Everard stormed around as Elwin tried to eat and rolled his eyes at his twin’s behavior. Hertha clambered all over the place as she put up the curtains she’d washed the day before. 

Nearly colliding with Elen as she walked in from the next room, Gwaine asked, “What’s with Everard today?” 

“I have no idea, and I haven’t the time for it.” Elen picked up an unclaimed plate of food and wrinkled her nose. “You know, I’m not that hungry. I’ve got to go work with my ‘apprentices.’” 

“Well, I’m starved.” Taking the plate from her, Gwaine asked, “How are they doing, anyway?”

“Isla’s progressing nicely; Ash is being stubborn.” Making another face at the food, she added, “Hayden’s already out with the dogs and sheep and cows and horses...having the time of his life, I’m sure. I’ll see you later.”

“They’d have to be reptiles for him to be really happy,” Gwaine commented, but his sister had already left. Shrugging, he went over to Cleva, standing over by the back door with her own breakfast. “Elen’s in a mood.” 

“She’s not the only one.” 

“True enough.” Wincing as Hertha slipped and almost fell off the counter-top under a window, he called, “Hey, wait a minute and I’ll help you with those!” 

“No, I’ve got it!” she called back cheerfully. 

_Hertha always did like doing risky things herself. Damn, some things never change._

* * *

He was thinking th e same two hours later, out on the football field that now served as a training field, sparring with Ruby, who had picked up sword-fighting remarkably fast for someone who had never touched a sword until a week ago. She still made all the common mistakes of a novice...giving away her next move, forgetting to keep up her footwork, hesitating before attacking. Gwaine went easy on her for about a minute, letting her practice the moves she knew, then disarmed her with a flick of the wrist. For the fourth time that morning. 

“ _Goddamn_ it!” she yelled, roughly brushing strands of her black hair from her face. “Is that move even legal? I’ve never seen anyone else do it!” 

“You’ve never seen my cousins in a sword fight.” He stuck his weapon in the dirt and picked up hers, handing it back to her hilt-first. “Well, only Everard really got the hang of it. Elwin and their father...not so much. My father taught me, and I taught some of my students...Everard’s son Aldwyn was the best, along with Holly…”

He didn’t realize he’d trailed off until Ruby prompted him. “Who’s Holly?” 

Gwaine took a deep breath. “Holly...she was my daughter. Crazy kid...usually did the opposite of what she was told when she was young. She was an incredible fighter as an adult. Always found the humor in things, too.” He had to stop there. 

“She sounds…” Ruby looked down at her sword. “She sounds pretty cool.” 

“Yeah, she was.” Clearing his throat, Gwaine retrieved his weapon. “Ready for another round?” 

While they cleaned up their equipment after training, Gwaine found himself next to Lancelot. _It’s so strange to seem him, alive and in his right mind...He died so long before the rest…_ “How was your trainee?”

“Quite good today. I’ve been working with him for a month. And yours?”

“Ruby has real potential. Lots of passion, too.” 

“I noticed you talking for a minute earlier...looked like more than simple instructions,” Lancelot said. “It’s none of my business, of course…” 

“Nah, it’s fine.” Gwaine hesitated. “I ended up telling her a bit about my daughter.”

“Oh. Gwen told me about your children…” Lancelot looked pensive. “I’m so sorry, Gwaine; I can’t even imagine…” 

“It is what it is. So, what’s the deal with you and our favorite royals? I mean, that whole Morgana using you business...most of us didn’t find out the truth until years afterward, them included…” 

“We’ve...discussed it.” Lancelot smiled wanly. “Gwen and Arthur...They were happy. They _are_ happy together. And I will continue serving my king with honor. That’s what matters to me.”

“Of course. I’m sorry I bothered you about it.” 

“It’s all right. Truly.” 

Letting a moment pass, Gwaine commented, “You really haven’t changed at all. You weren’t some kind of devoted celebrity bodyguard before the apocalypse, were you?” 

The other knight laughed out loud. “No, I was an aspiring stage actor. Not sure I could pull it off anymore, though. Let’s just say Luca was far better at dissembling that Lancelot.” 

“Well, I for one hope we get a chance to test that out sometime.”

* * *

That night, Arthur held a meeting  in the living room of  the  cottage he shared with Gwen, Elyan, Percival, and Haralda. Gwaine didn’t know why he, Everard, and Elen were invited until he got there; only other people formerly from the era of Albion were in attendance, including Leon, Gaius, and Lancelot.

“We would’ve invited your entire family,” Gwen said apologetically, “but some of the other people on the settlement council may be keeping tabs on everyone; they’re a little uncomfortable with the whole ‘Arthur is a resurrected king’ thing, and what we need to talk about is Camelot-related.” 

“Makes sense to me,” Gwaine agreed, jabbing Everard with his elbow to stop the teen from sending more death glares at his sister. _We’ve all been a little distant with her so far, but he’s been downright unpleasant._ “What’s the problem?” 

“We need to find Merlin,” Arthur said bluntly. “We’re surviving for now...but what if the earthquakes return? Or the storms...nothing about them was normal.”

“And if we’ve all returned from the dead, who’s to say that others won’t?” Elyan said. “Old enemies like Morgana, _Mordred_ …”

“Or Morgause, Nimueh, perhaps others with or without magic, but with evil intent.” Gaius shifted in his seat. “It _is_ very possible that dark magic caused the apocalypse itself. And that dark forces will attempt to take power by whatever means necessary.” 

“Or destroy anything that remains.” Elen looked faintly sick. 

“Merlin was the only sorcerer I ever knew who could command the earth itself, and was also good at heart,” Arthur said after a brief silence. “We _need_ him. To make sense of all this, if nothing else.”

Everyone nodded and made noises of agreement.

_ Because imagining Merlin as responsible for this, or deceased, is too much for all of us.  _

“So how do we track him down?” Everard asked. “It’s not like we have his phone number...or any working phones, for that matter.” 

“I’ve been thinking,” Arthur said, “and Lancelot, Gwen, and I were discussing it earlier. Merlin had a big heart and so much power, but he did have especially strong connections to certain places, to certain things….”

“And not to suggest they’re _things_ ,” Leon interjected, seeming to catch on, “but one of those would be dragons, right? He was a Dragonlord.”

“Good example,” Arthur replied with a firm nod. “But then we have the issue of finding a dragon. Kilgharrah died even before I did, and we don’t know if Aithusa’s still alive or where she might be. But as for other things, like actual locations…” 

“Gwen and I were thinking the Lake of Avalon,” Lancelot said. “Merlin took my body there, for a burial.” 

“Freya’s, too,” Gwen said softly, referring to Merlin’s first true love, cursed and killed far too soon.

“It’s also where he kept Excalibur, until he put it in the stone,” Gaius said. 

Gwaine and Haralda both snorted audibly at Arthur’s expression. “I can’t believe I thought I’d pulled that thing out myself…” the former king muttered. 

“And that’s where he put the sword after Pendragon’s death,” Elen said. At everyone’s looks, she shrugged. “We talked sometimes, mostly about important magical objects. Nothing like trying to murder each other in a warehouse to make two people bond.”

“Wait, _what_?” Lancelot began, but Haralda cut him off. 

“All right, we find this special Lake of Avalon and, what? Cast a spell on it or something and hope Merlin senses it?” 

Gwaine met Arthur’s gaze, and  all at once he understood. “No, we retrieve the sword. I mean, even if Merlin doesn’t get the message, that thing’s good for killing stuff that’s already dead, right? And zombies aren’t totally out of the question here.” 

Arthur grinned.  “ _Exactly_ .” 

Pause. “So at least some of us are going to go traipsing across England again to find a lake that might not exist anymore and retrieve a sword that’s been at the bottom of said lake for over a thousand years.” Everard’s face took on the exact expression it had used to whenever one of his several children had done something especially daring and stupid and he didn’t understand why. “Wonderful.” 

Chuckling, Percival spoke up. “What could _possibly_ go wrong?” 


	13. Chapter 12

“Sometimes,” Gwaine said loudly, “I’m really happy we spent so much time staring at maps of Albion, because otherwise we really wouldn’t have a clue where we are in relation to what existed back then.”

From the front of the line of eight riders, Arthur let out a rather dramatic sigh. “Honestly, Gwaine, I thought you’d grown out of your mindless chatter _long_ ago.”

“Come on, _Princess_ , let me relive my reckless youth!”

Even Arthur laughed at that.

Besides Arthur and Gwaine, Leon, Percival, Lancelot, Haralda, Elen, and Cleva had set out three mornings previously to find the Lake of Avalon, and, by extension, Excalibur. Elyan, with his old-fashioned blacksmith’s skills, had been deemed too important to leave Anglesey for who knew how long, and though Gwen expressed an interest in going on the quest, she’d decided that she should stay and keep an eye on the ruling council in Arthur’s stead.

The twins hadn’t been pleased about being left behind on such an adventure, but Gwaine had reminded them, “Someone in the family needs to look out for Hertha. And besides, you two are still pretty young in a lot of ways and will be for a while. It’s my and Elen’s job to make sure you stay as safe as possible. By definition, quests are not safe.”

On the other hand, Elen hadn’t wanted to go. She’d only agreed when Gaius had pointed out that, “Retrieving the sword may require the use of magic. Who else here is more qualified in that area than you?”

Despite the earthquake-torn landscape of southwest England, the length of time required to make the trip had been shortened considerably by riding. Several of the horses kept by the people on Anglesey weren’t trained for farm work, and as Arthur had insinuated to most that the quest was primarily to look for more supplies and survivors, borrowing a few hadn’t been an issue. However, between convincing other people that the trip was a good idea and making necessary preparations, it had taken almost three weeks after their initial meeting to actually depart.

The weather had been mostly gray and drizzly so far, yet Gwaine had found himself in a good mood more often than not. The outside temperature remained very moderate despite the moisture. They hadn’t run across anything more dangerous than crevasses and some distant wolves, and even the modern-day ruins they passed were softened by the plant life already growing over them. And although he hadn’t spoken to her by himself, he’d seen Haralda talking with Elen several times, and they seemed to be getting along just fine.

“You should talk to her, too,” Cleva said as they road side-by-side shortly after the exchange about maps and mindless chatter. “I know for a fact that Hertha and Elwin visited with her on multiple occasions before we left; only Everard’s holding out.”

“Yeah, because Everard’s taking after Harlan a lot more than he used to.” Gwaine sighed. “You’re right, Cleva, I should talk to her, but...You weren’t there. She literally just took off after our her mum and dad and ours...Aldwyn... _Alan_ was already gone, and she disappeared one day, texting me and Elen once, basically saying that she ‘couldn’t handle it.’ And that was it. She was an _adult_ at the time, they were _her_ siblings...but me and my sister had to be their parents after that. We would’ve helped her, of course. Yet she wouldn’t help us. She wouldn’t even call.” He patted his horse’s neck, trying and failing to calm down. “The twins took it hard, and Hertha...just Heidi then...she was still a little girl. She was already traumatized enough.”

“I’d think you were all badly hurt,” Cleva said gently. “I know what it’s like to lose parents.”

“Yes, you do,” Gwaine said heavily. “I just...Haralda didn’t have to deal with anyone’s trauma but her own. Elen and I...we had to. And we did. So I...I guess I’m still angry that she just up and abandoned us for years.”

“Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

His lips turning into a faint smile, Gwaine looked over at his wife and said, “Yeah. It sounds familiar.” Then, “I’m glad you wanted to come along. I’ve been getting accustomed to your company.”

“Well, you lot needed someone who can turn meager rations into a decent meal. I’m fairly sure that, say, _Arthur_ didn’t learn to cook in this life, either.”

“Absolutely true, but come on, the rest of us aren’t _that_ bad!”

* * *

The next morning, Gwaine moved his horse close to Haralda’s as they were saddling up. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze.

Almost steeling himself, he ventured, “I had a dream last night...about the old days.”

She glanced at him. “In Camelot?”

“Nah, before that. When we were kids.” _Before_ I _found something I couldn’t handle and ran off._ “You, me, Aldwyn...We had a lot of fun, didn’t we?”

Her lips twisted into a half-smile. “Mostly you and Aldwyn. But yeah, we had fun.”

He was about to respond when she turned to face him directly. “I’m sorry I left all of you,” she said bluntly, “it was a damn rotten thing to do and I don’t expect forgiveness. But in a way I’m happy I left. I...I was in a very dark place for a while, and I...I’m glad you and Elen didn’t have to deal with that on top of the kids. Let’s just say it was a good thing I found Percival when I did.” She finally met his gaze. “And I think I understand you a little better. Guilt...it can be a strong motivator for _not_ doing something.”

Gwaine swallowed. _She held on to a lot of Hannah when she got her memories back._ “Yeah, it really can be.”

They didn’t get any longer to talk, as Arthur started yelling about getting an early start. “We can make it to the lake before dark if we get going!”

* * *

Everyone got quieter as they approached the area where they believed the Lake of Avalon had once been: a section of rolling hills in Shropshire. It was really a quite lovely place, even with so many of the foliage-thick hillsides split by earthquake-caused scars. However, the damage seemed minimal, at least until…

“Well,” Arthur said, cresting a small rise and pulling up abruptly; his horse snorted in protest. “Somehow I didn’t expect that.”

According to the local map they’d picked up in the abandoned market town of Church Stretton, they should have gone up a narrow valley between two hills and arrived at a small lake that was possibly man-made or at least altered, bound by concrete and road. They’d agreed that it was “a place to start.”

But what they saw now didn’t match the map at all.

The hills on either side had crumbled, leaving the valley wider for at least a mile, with stepper walls thickly coated in climbing vines and other plants. Any trees that had died in the process had seemingly been replaced by many others, most already full-grown. Around the edge of the apparently expanded lake, a wide band of meadow grasses grew, interspersed with a rainbow of wildflowers that filled the air with sweet scents. The water glittered like crystal as a soft breeze rippled it, and no sign remained in the vicinity of any human disturbance whatsoever.

“It’s beautiful,” Cleva breathed. “So _beautiful_.”

“This whole spot is saturated in powerful magic,” Elen said, “I can feel it.”

“Makes sense,” Leon commented, then no one spoke for a while. Remaining mounted, they just soaked in the view, the smells, the pure beauty of a place the old magic had so thoroughly reclaimed.

_Pity it couldn’t do that without killing so many people._

After they did stop looking and dismounedt, they left the horses in the meadow and approached the water’s edge with some caution. “It looks very different from before,” Lancelot said. “I know I shouldn’t have a clear memory, but...It’s very different.”

“I think we can all agree at this point that magic works in mysterious ways,” Percival said with a grin.

Ignoring this, Arthur turned to Elen. “What now?”

“Give me a minute.” Once Elen had stared at the lake for a bit, she said, “Your presence hasn’t activated any sort of response.”

“Maybe the sword’s not here anymore,” Haralda said unhelpfully. Gwaine gave her a look, and she made a face in return.

“So do a spell or something!” Arthur sounded very much like his impatient younger self for a moment. “That’s why you’re here, right?”

Rolling her eyes, Elen stepped up to the water’s edge, muttering, “Do a spell or _something_ , he says,” and gazed out again over the lake. Everyone else, remembering magic incidents of old, backed up a few feet as she lifted her hands and began to chant a spell in an ancient tongue, the words “Arthur Pendragon” included among the rest. The wind seemed to pick up for a few seconds in response, but nothing else happened as she finished the chant and lowered her hands.

“Okay then,” Arthur said as the sorceress turned around. “Is that all you have?”

“Merlin was right; you’re a complete prat at times.” Elen rubbed her temples. “Give me another minute and I’ll try a different…”

Anyone who had their eyes on the lake at that moment let out startled noises and reached for weapons as the water at the lake’s center began to bubble. Large ripples spread out from the disturbance, making small waves that splashed loudly against the shore.

“Move up!” Arthur shouted unnecessarily; everyone was already backing quickly away from the water. Meanwhile, the strange boiling patch in the lake began to move towards them. When it reached the shallows, something began to emerge from it, still approaching.

_No, not something. That’s a someone._

Black, flowing hair. A dress of rich purple and blue. Wide, dark eyes. And a gleaming, gold-and-silver sword held in her hand.

She halted with her feet still in the water, smiling when no one spoke or made a move. “Welcome to the Lake of Avalon.” Her gaze came to rest on Arthur. “The Once and Future King. It’s been a long time since we last met.”

Arthur took a careful step forward. “I’m sorry, but I...I don’t recall ever meeting you.”

“It was for a very short time, during which you landed the blow that ended my mortal life.” Her expression grew sad. “You did what you had to, to protect your people. I hold no ill will towards you for ending my old existence, which was more of a nightmare than not.”

It hit Gwaine around the same time it seemed to hit Arthur. _A woman who became a monster at night and who Arthur killed. Merlin was known to say that the lake always made him feel closer to her…_ “You’re Freya.”

She inclined her head in conformation.

“I am so sorry,” Arthur said, voice shaking. “I...Merlin told me years later...I wish there had been another way…”

“It was forgiven long ago.” Lifting the sword, Freya continued, “This belongs to you.” She held it out to Arthur. “I’ve been keeping it safe for centuries.”

“I...Thank you.” The king took the sword hesitantly. “Do you know...We’ve been looking for Merlin, hoping he turns up...If you know anything…”

“I know he’s alive, and that soon, he will return to help fulfill your destiny, to create Albion anew.” Freya looked sad again. “It’s a shame that the world had to come to this, with so much suffering...There is still a war ahead.” She looked over the entire group. “It won’t be easy. But together, you _can_ prevail.”

_Another war. Personally, I was hoping for...not that._

“Thank you,” Arthur said again. “If there’s anything I can do for you…”

Suddenly, the Lady of the Lake was smiling again. “When Merlin returns, tell him to come visit me if he gets the chance. I’ve missed him.”

And with that, Freya returned to the depths of the Lake of Avalon, leaving the group on the shore with a shiny sword...and a little more hope for the return of Emrys.


	14. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am up way too late, but I don't care. I just had to finish this chapter. ;)

They got to the outskirts of Shrewsbury...which really wasn’t far from the lake at all, on horseback...when Elen started hearing voices. Or one voice, specifically.

“It’s a woman,” she told Gwaine almost as soon as it started. “And she’s in trouble…” Her gaze went distant. “It’s so faint, her voice…‘Help me, help me,’ over and over…Whoever it is must have magic.”

“Okay...either someone with magic is asking for help the only way they can, or it’s some kind of trap. Or you’re going crazy...I mean, with things like they are…”

“Shut up, Gwaine.”

They agreed to tell the others, and did so the next time the group stopped to water the horses.

“Is she somehow familiar to you?” Lancelot asked. “Perhaps she’s someone from your old life who maybe...maybe sensed you and needs your help?”

Elen shook her head. “People tend to sound the same out loud as they do in their head...at least when communicating like this...and I’ve never heard her voice before.”

“And you think she’s _really_ in trouble?” Haralda said. “Not trying to trap other sorcerers or anything?”

“She _sounds_ sincere.” Elen shook her head in frustration. “She’s pleading, desperate...and she won’t stop talking.”

Arthur looked thoughtful. “Do you know how far away she is?”

Clearly resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Elen replied, “Telepathy doesn’t come with GPS, Pendragon.”

“I suppose not, but if you had to _guess_ …”

“She’s somewhere to the east, I think...she can’t be too far...maybe a day’s ride or so? Extending one’s mental reach over many miles is something that takes an incredible amount of power…”

“...and if she’s _that_ powerful,” Gwaine said when Elen paused, “why not free herself?”

Tapping the hilt of Excalibur, Arthur looked around at everyone. “Well, I told the council we’d be looking for survivors. This woman, whoever she is, fits that definition. Is anyone up for a side quest?”

“I’m going,” Elen said, “at least to check it out, because I won’t be able to get her voice out of my mind otherwise.”

Lancelot spoke up before she finished her sentence. “If a person needs help, we should all offer what we can.”

“We’ve only been gone a few days,” Leon said after a moment. “We can afford a few more.”

“I’m alright with it,” Percival said, and Haralda mumbled her assent.

“I’m going wherever my sister goes,” Gwaine said.

Cleva took his hand. “I’m with my husband on this one.”

“Well, that’s a consensus, then,” Arthur said with a smile. “Let’s get going. Elen, you’re in the lead.”

* * *

It was the next afternoon when they finally pinpointed the source of the pleas...which had gotten louder and more detailed between periodic silences, according to Elen.

“I’m getting almost full sentences now...She and her son are being held prisoner by her evil cousin? Or maybe it’s an evil sister. She’s afraid to do anything herself because she’s not strong enough and trying to protect her son...I keep getting glimpses of him; he’s so young, poor thing...I’ve tried to ask her her location, to tell her that help is on the way...I’m not sure she hears me…”

They were skirting yet another urban area when Elen pulled up and cried, “Aha! Quick, where’s the nearest intact castle?”

After a frantic scrambling in the saddlebags produced nothing, Cleva exclaimed, “We’re just north of Tamworth! So the nearest castle would be Tamworth Castle. A tourist destination turned into someone’s private fortress?”

“Given the world right now, not surprising,” Leon pointed out.

Arthur took charge. “All right, anyone ever been there?” 

Leon said, “Yes, on a school field trip when I was ten,” at the same time as Gwaine spoke up. “I went there on a weekend date there a few years back, before I dropped out of uni and moved back home.”

“Um…” Arthur blinked. “I’m guessing you, Leon, don’t remember too many details from that long ago, no offense...Gwaine, I’m sure you had only eyes for your date…”

Grinning, Gwaine replied, “You know me too well.”

Elen groaned. “Tell me it wasn’t that awful girl Callie or whatever…”

“Her name was _Cassidy_ , Elen, and no, it wasn’t her, it was Jonathan. You liked him, remember?”

“Right, him. I met him once for five minutes, and it was enough for me to know that he was _far_ too smart for you.”

“ _Hey_ , that’s...”

“Okay,” Arthur interrupted, “all that aside, we need to head to the castle...can’t be too hard to find, maybe there will be some signs left up...and we’ll look for some place where they might have tourist maps of the place to fill in whatever Gwaine and Leon can’t remember...Which I’m sure is a lot. In case this evil cousin-sister of our lady in distress is around...Let’s exercise caution and leave the horses a distance from the castle itself.”

As they turned south towards the rubble of another ruined town, Cleva rode up beside Gwaine. “So...Jonathan, hmm? And Cassidy? How many significant others from this life have we not discussed?”

“Well...quite a few.” Gwaine ducked his head. “I’m sorry.”

Cleva laughed. “Don’t apologize; I had a few myself. It’s not like we remembered being married.” She glanced towards Elen, who rode nearby. “What about you, Elen? I’m sure you had plenty of dates to chose from…”

“If I did, I ignored most of them. But not all.” Elen snorted. “Even Hayden dated before all this happened, which surprised me, actually. Ask him about Aaron sometime...apparently that’s where Malachite came from...When they broke up, Aaron got the python and Hayden got the iguana.”

“Huh,” Gwaine said thoughtfully. “I’m kind of relieved about that...I mean, carrying an iguana across the country is one thing. A python would’ve been quite another.”

“That’s something that hasn’t changed,” Arthur called from ahead.

“What’s that?”

“He means that your family is bizarre, Gwaine,” Leon said, sparking a round of laughter.

For a while after that, the group remained lighthearted, though it was morbid to think that most or all of the people they'd dated before the apocalypse were likely dead, and Elen started to look more pained the further into the town they went. “She can hear me now, but she’s frantic...She’s saying her sister’s leaving soon on a short trip...That may be our chance...She wants us to be careful…”

“So _now_ that we’re trying to save her, she wants us to be careful.” Gwaine swung off his horse; they’d found a large park with plenty of grass and trees to keep the horses occupied and safe. The castle was less than a mile away. “She’s still not familiar?”

“Not really.” Frowning, Elen added, “I think...I think her son’s sick. All she wants is to protect him.”

“Parental instinct. I’d say we know it well,” Cleva said, patting her mare’s neck.

As Elen tended to her mount, Cleva followed Gwaine around his horse. “I’ve been thinking...We came back and found each other, didn’t we? Despite all odds. What if...what if we could get our children back, too? Eventually.”

“You mean...have them again?” Gwaine reached out and took her hand. “I don’t dare hope. But...It would be wonderful, wouldn’t it? To have them back.”

“It would.” Giving his hand a squeeze, Cleva went back to retrieve some things from her saddlebags, leaving Gwaine in thought.

 _Caldwell...Holly. Alive. With us. I think I’ve had_ _some amazing dreams where that happened...Cleva probably has, too. Maybe, someday, when things settle down…_

And, if he were honest, he’d have to admit that the idea of having more children that _weren’t_ his son and daughter from before wasn’t an unpleasant idea at all. _If we win whatever war we’re in now, and things get better…_

They set up camp for the night, not making a fire in order to maintain cover. “No fire means an excuse to cuddle more, right?” Gwaine whispered in Cleva’s ear, earning a giggle and a light slap as they curled up under a blanket together.

In the morning, the group set off early, crossing the twisted train tracks that ran east to west and continuing on, occasionally splitting up but not straying far from each other.

Percival managed to scrounge up a basic floor plan of Tamworth Castle from somewhere, and everyone gathered to peruse it and come up with a strategy. “Elen, do you know where the woman’s being held?” Arthur asked.

“Has to be the dungeon...any glimpses I’ve gotten from her show that. But there will surely be guards...she and her sister aren’t alone in there.”

The sister wasn’t there much longer, anyway; soon afterward, the would-be rescuers watched, hidden behind a row of trees as a group of people rode away south from the fortress set on a hill. One of the riders appeared to be a woman with long golden hair. However, no one was able to get a good look at her face.

Guards remained at the main gate, yet sneaking up and through a damaged section of the western wall and into the old kitchens proved relatively easy. Crossing the courtyard to the watchman’s house, where they hoped to gain access to the dungeon, proved harder as a pair of black-clad guards emerged from the central part of the castle at the same time.

“They have actual armor!” Haralda shouted as she hurled one of her battle axes, recently forged by Elyan, towards the nearest opponent. “That’s not _fair_!”

“Fair or not, we have our hands full now!” Arthur bellowed as more guards came rushing around a corner. The air rang with the sounds of weapons being drawn. “Elen, get to the dungeons! You might need magic to break the prisoners free!”

“What the hell do you think I’m doing?” She was already at the watchman’s door, Lancelot and Percival right behind her. Pausing, she looked towards Gwaine.

Knowing there could be more enemies down there and realizing with terror that he was too far to follow her without running into some of the ones up here, he concentrated and thought, _Stay safe, sister._

He just heard her _You too, brother_ , echo in his mind before she disappeared into the building with the two knights in tow.

Then there was no time left to think.

Gwaine, Arthur, Leon, Cleva, and Haralda were locked in nonstop battle for what felt like hours. The masked men, between ten and twenty in all, surrounded them easily, backing them into the north side of the courtyard, and didn’t seem to struggle for more than a few seconds when stabbed or slashed through their armor. They didn’t bleed a normal amount, either. The only weapon that made them drop after one direct blow was Excalibur.

“There’s something magical about them!” Gwaine yelled when he realized that.

“Try to take off their limbs and let Arthur finish them!” Leon shouted. He followed it up with something garbled about skeletons that Gwaine didn’t quite catch.

With a strategy, they fared better. Cleva and Haralda worked as team, the former stabbing and being a distraction with her long dagger as the latter put her axes to good use. Leon and Gwaine found a similar rhythm, while Arthur seemed to be everywhere at once, his legendary sword skills put to a true test for the first time in centuries. Within minutes, over half of the guards had fallen and didn’t rise again.

A couple more came charging down from the east battlements, and Gwaine almost laughed. _Come and get us!_

These men had spears, but one dropped right away as Arthur threw Excalibur into his chest and swept up a fallen enemy's blade. The second man stopped, hurling his spear with near-superhuman force. The king dodged it; several paces back, Gwaine twisted his body to do the same. The weapon soared past him.

And right into Cleva’s chest.

Time seemed to slow as she collapsed back against the wall of the castle kitchen, dagger falling from her hand. For a fraction of an instant, her brilliant gray eyes met Gwaine’s. Then the light in them went out.

His scream tore through the courtyard, followed by a wave of uncontrolled magic that flung back anyone and anything in its path. Windows shattered, raining glass down on the cobblestones. Anything wooden in a twenty-foot radius erupted into roaring flames that flickered to nothing in seconds.

Through it all, Gwaine saw nothing but the guard who had thrown the spear, struggling to rise. The man never made to his feet.

Battered bodies, scattered across the courtyard. And fire, burning through his blood, wanting to consume everything, everyone, everywhere.

Yet the battle was over, and Elen, Lancelot, and Percival were emerging from the building across the courtyard, Percival carrying a child and Elen supporting a pale, dark-haired woman who Gwaine knew the identity of the moment he laid eyes on her.

 _Cleva just died for_ her _?_

And without another thought, Gwaine lunged forward to kill Morgana Pendragon.


	15. Chapter 14

He got about two steps before Elen’s spell stopped him in his tracks. Struggling against invisible magic bonds, he could barely hear people shouting at him through the screaming in his head. Only when someone came up behind him and tackled him to the ground did he realize that he’d been screaming aloud.

Nothing made much sense after that. Voices echoed around him, whatever they spoke garbled and meaningless. Time slipped by, shadows across the courtyard changing drastically in what seemed like the blink of an eye. His eyes burned and his throat ached as he knelt in a corner with Cleva’s lifeless body in his arms, hearing his sobs as if they came from someone else.

Eventually the sobs stopped and the words came, and he heard himself rambling quietly, reminding his wife of all the good memories from the old days, of the happier adventures and even better times in between. _Remember when...Wasn’t it incredible, that one time...I wish we’d gone there more often...Do you remember…_

Darkness had begun to fall when his voice cracked and faltered, and then someone’s hands on his shoulders. Looking up in Elen’s eyes, he heard her say, “She’s gone, Gwaine. Let her go.”

Slowly, painfully, he lowered Cleva gently to the ground, noticing with relief that someone had already shut her eyes. His sister covered the body with a sheet before guiding him inside one of the castle’s rooms and making him lie down on a cot. He thought he heard her mutter a spell just before sleep overwhelmed him.

He woke up the next morning feeling numb; it took him several minutes to realize that Cleva’s blood was still all over his clothing and hands. Elen turned up right after that with a basin of water and a change of clean clothes. “It seems like we’ll have a couple days before Morgause comes back; some of the others brought the horses and supplies here. But to be safe we’re planning on leaving as soon as we sort through some supplies here and...and have a funeral.”

It took a while for him to understand. “...A funeral?”

“Yes, I...Gwaine, Cleva...her body wouldn’t make it back to Anglesey. There’s the river nearby...we could do...what we did last time…”

“Floating pyre, you mean.” Starting down at the pink-tinted water swirling around his hands in the washbasin, he heard himself say, “Yeah. She asked for that, last time.” _She wouldn’t mind it again._

Again, time seemed to mean nothing, as it felt like minutes passed between the conversation and the funeral itself. Except for Morgana and the child Mordred...because of course it was _him_...everyone gathered by the shore, voices low and expressions somber, though Gwaine hardly heard or saw any of them. The setting sun cast golden light across the river below the castle and the raft Percival and Haralda had put together from fallen trees. Somewhere in the fortress, Elen had found a collection of dresses, and had found a silver-blue one similar to an old favorite of her sister-in-law’s.

Dressed beautifully with her long hair combed out and her fair face peaceful, Cleva almost looked to be asleep on the bed of ferns and logs. Not taking his eyes off his wife, Gwaine half-listened to Elen’s shaky speech about Cleva’s intelligence, her bravery, her loyalty. “She was a dear friend to many, a beloved wife, a wonderful mother, and stronger than most ever realized. Both in her old life, and in this one. She deserved another peaceful death, asleep in her bed with her loved ones around her.” Elen stopped there, stifling a sob with her hand, seemingly unable to go on.

Arthur cleared his throat. “In the past, I admit that I didn’t know Cleva all that well. In this life, however, on Anglesey...I got to know her a bit better. She worked tirelessly for the benefit of all, with nothing but love in her heart. I hope that, going forward, we can all honor that legacy.” Allowing a few seconds of silence to pass, the king turned to Gwaine and asked, “Are you ready?”

Nodding stiffly, Gwaine moved to push the raft away from the shore, hesitating only a moment to memorize Cleva’s face one last time. Leon and Lancelot stepped in to help when he struggled to move the raft. And as it began to float away, caught by the current, Elen moved forward.

Feeling a flicker of true emotion for the first time that day, Gwaine stopped her. “I should do it.” Heart aching, he raised one hand. “ _**Forbearnan.**_ ”

The floating pyre burst into flames, burning brightly as it rounded the nearest bend.

_Gone. This time forever._

They left the next morning, having scrounged the castle for useful supplies and successfully treated any minor injuries from the skirmish. Arriving in the courtyard last to find Morgana saddling Cleva’s mare, Gwaine grabbed the reins and snarled, “You can’t ride this one.”

Spinning to face him, the witch stumbled back, eyes wide and full of panic. “I...I’m sorry, I…”

All eyes seemed to be on the scene unfolding. “Gwaine, that’s the extra horse now,” Haralda called from across the courtyard. “So she and the kid are riding it.”

“No, she’s not.” He took a step towards Morgana and noted with satisfaction that she shrank back even further. Skinny, pale little Mordred clung to her waist. “Why are you two even still alive? Given your track record and all.”

Morgana bit her lip, shaking her head. “I’ve changed! Ever since I remembered my past life, I’ve regretted...And he remembers nothing…” She wrapped her arms protectively around her son. “He’s just a _child_ …”

His hand was on his sword hilt when Lancelot seized his arm. “She can ride my horse,” the knight said firmly. “I’ll take Cleva’s. Will that work?”

Gwaine shook him off and stalked over to his mount, leaving the others to work out the switch.

His sister’s horse was next to his.“We’ll be keeping a careful eye on them,” Elen said as she tightened the saddle girth. “I’ve talked to Morgana a lot since...I believe Morgause is the real villain here.”

“Don’t worry,” Gwaine said shortly. “If either of them screws up, I’ll kill them myself.”

“You’ll have to get in line.” Arthur rode by, looking down at the siblings. “None of us are getting complacent, Gwaine, I promise you that.”

* * *

The return journey to Anglesey, hurried due to worries over being tracked by Morgause, passed by in a blur. The only person who spent much time around Morgana and Mordred was Elen; everyone else avoided them, and seemed to want to keep Gwaine furthest away of all.

Most of the time, Gwaine didn’t mind so much. Except for occasional flashes of raging fury that left him struggling to rein in his returning magic, he felt too tired and empty to care about what was happening around him.

What he did think and care about was the good things of the past, and the darker future that appeared to stretch out before him now.

_Cleva’s gone._ And with her, pretty much any faint hope he’d had of seeing his children again. _They’re all gone, like Father, like Mother, Uncle Harlan, Aunt Aldora, Aldwyn…_

Upon their arrival on Anglesey, Gwaine saw familiar anxious faces, heard murmured condolences, accepted embraces from family and friends, all the while feeling detached from everyone and everything. A few days passed, for most life settled back into familiar rhythms, and he wandered alone in a gray haze, vaguely realizing that he was being useless and a burden on everyone else, yet unable to pull himself from the fog. Nothing seemed get through, not Everard’s well-meaning lectures or Elwin’s jokes or Hertha’s worry-laden questions. Sometimes, he believed a response would not only be exhausting, but would make things worse in the end.

_Gone, gone, gone._ _Everyone always goes, leaving nothing._ _I wish I w_ _as_ _gone_ _, too._

Once, on a rainy day years ago, he had passed by his sister’s open bedroom door and seen her laying on her bed, curled up on her side, facing the raindrop-splattered window. He’d known, somehow, that she wasn’t asleep and had gone in, laid down next to her, and wrapped her in a hug that she’d leaned into for a long time.

That had been a week after their parent’s died.

And now, on another rainy day far away from home, Gwaine lay on a bed in the room he and Cleva had shared for a few precious weeks, staring out a window. Somehow he wasn’t surprised when his sister entered the room and did the same thing he’d done all those years ago. Like she had then, he leaned into the embrace.

It seemed like hours before she spoke. “I’m so sorry, brother.” When he didn’t answer, she said, “I felt it. When you used magic, I mean, right after...And I think, in that moment...I couldn’t have used magic for anything if I tried.”

It took effort to pursue her line of reasoning. “You think...Our magic is shared now? Only one of us can use it at a time?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Huh. Guess we’ll have to be really careful to not cut each other off whenever we’re both in danger.” A long silence passed, and he heard her draw a shuddering breath. “You okay, sis?”

“I’m pregnant.”

She pulled away then, and they both sat up. He watched her as she kept her gaze on the window. “Have you talked to Hayden?”

“Yes, as soon as we got back to Anglesey. I’d suspected for a while, but...I’m sure now.”

Gwaine tried and failed to make some mental calculations. “How long…”

“Five months, I think? I’ll start showing any day…” Elen laughed a little. “I think I’ve been in deep denial...but it just sort of happened. I wasn’t thinking about precautions before all this because I wasn’t in and didn’t want any relationship, even though I did like Hal a lot, then all our memories returned and I…I don’t know.”

“I get it. You were happy to have Hayden back.” _Like I was happy to have Cleva._ Pulling Elen into another hug, Gwaine added, “Are you okay?”

“I...I’m worried, of course. We don’t know how things will unfold going forward, the world’s so dangerous…”

“The world’s always been dangerous. Even in the best of times.”

“True enough. But yes, I’m okay. I...I’m happy, in a way. So is Hayden.”

“And I’m happy for you both.” _That’s the truth, even if the feeling’s muted right now._ Gwaine sat back and smiled, though it didn’t last long. “Next time there’s a quest and magic is needed, I’ll go instead of you.”

“Yeah, not going to happen unless I’m at the waddling stage. Hopefully by then Merlin will be here.”

“I’m with you there.”

Pause. “I love you, brother.”

“Love you too, sis.”

* * *

The next morning, Gwaine went down to the training field, where Arthur, the knights, and their many students had gathered for morning training. Retrieving a sword and ignoring any and all concerned looks, he found Ruby practicing passes. She stopped when she saw him coming.

“You’re still watching your sword arm too much,” he said. “Leaving yourself open to attack on the other side.”

“I know. It’s just hard sometimes.”

“It takes practice. Your movements are actually lot more fluid than when I left.” He gave her a quick smile. “How’s Amelie?”

“Oh, she’s good. She started volunteering at the clinic, learning a lot there…” Ruby bit her lip, looking nervous. “Um, I...I’m sorry about Cleva.” Her brow furrowed. “Are you...Well, asking if you’re ‘okay’ is stupid right now, given how you’ve been…”

“Pathetic?” Gwaine twirled his sword absentmindedly. “Yeah, it’s rough. But I’m surviving. Doing my best, you know? Trying, anyway.” The teenager shrugged. “About all we can do, right? Try our best to make things better. For ourselves and everyone else.”

_For everyone still left, and those yet to come._ “You’re right, Ruby. Now, let’s get to work. Show me your defensive position.”


	16. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...It's been a while. Between stuff at work, at home, and plain old writer's block, I haven't really been in the swing of things for a long time. But hopefully I'm back now!   
> Enjoy the different POV ;)

In all honesty, Arthur Pendragon had believed that he’d had enough trouble in his first lifetime for several. He’d used to intentionally avoid Merlin’s attempts to speculate with him on prophecies concerning “The Once and Future King’s return” for that very reason. Between the near-weekly attempts on his life or Camelot’s security, the way everyone eventually came to expect him to single-handedly keep the peace throughout Albion, and the sheer number of betrayals he’d endured over the years, he’d always thought one life was more than enough for one man.

And that was _before_ he suffered a sudden and violent death at the hands of one of his former knights.

He could recall most of his own death in painful detail... _A dawn red with smoke,_ _the feeling of cold, sharp steel sliding through his flesh, the agonized sobs of his closest friend..._ and his “next” memory involved getting flour all over the kitchen flour as he “helped” his mother make a cake for his third birthday. 

Ygraine...or Yvonne, rather...had lived a longer second life, though perhaps a harder one in many ways. Her husband, after a near-death accident, had grown more listless and irascible year by year, and had died of a heart attack when their son was still a very young child. 

As an adult with his old and new memories intermingled, Arthur knew that his father’s ill health had been exacerbated by constant substance abuse, and had to wonder if somehow that one-time brush with death had partially triggered Uther’s old memories. _Maybe he recalled all the bloodshed he caused and lies he told, and the guilt finally destroyed him._

Despite never having much money after her husband’s decline and death, Yvonne had managed to keep herself and her son living in reasonable comfort. They’d moved from London to a tiny cottage just outside Dover for several years, and life had been good, if not luxurious. Arthur could look back on his childhood and adolescence and honestly say it had been good. 

His mother had died when he was nineteen, drained of life by cancer that wouldn’t go away despite the doctors’ best efforts. Now, Arthur could comfort himself with the thoughts _She lived longer, I got to know her, and we were happy._

And he could admit that he was glad to not have to deal with his father on top of everything else.

_Especially this._

He’d been standing in the garden gate of a cottage at the outskirts of the village for several minutes, hiding in the shadows of the building as he watched the two people seated in the bright sunshine a few meters away. 

Morgana was coaxing Mordred to eat something, but the boy didn’t seem to be hungry. Gaius had treated him for a nasty, long-lasting viral infection as best as he could. The ill effects still lingered. 

_This sick child is far from the charismatic, bitter man who killed me._

Likewise, Morgana was far from the smirking, snarling woman who had died on the Plains of Andor. Arthur had yet to have a real conversation with her one-on-one, but from all he had observed since she’d arrived on Anglesey about a week previously, her voice, her mannerisms, even her eyes...they all reminded him of Morgana before evil had corrupted her heart. 

_Back when she was truly my sister, without knowing we actually shared a father._

Thus far, she hadn’t resisted being guarded nonstop and hadn’t attempted to use magic even once, though she admitted to being capable of the latter. Arthur hadn’t lied to Gwaine, however; no one was ready to let their guard down.  _Not even Elen, who’s the only person who speaks to her regularly…_

He startled when he realized that Mordred’s unblinking gaze had turned in his direction, and reluctantly stepped out of the shadows as Morgana looked his way as well. “Good morning.”

Standing and ruffling the hair of her still-staring son, Morgana said nervously, “Sweetheart, go inside.” 

The boy got up and disappeared into the cottage, leaving the adults alone in awkward silence for a minute. “So…” Morgana ventured, “You’re here to speak with me?”

“Yes, I...” Arthur tried to gather his thoughts. _I should’ve planned this out better...or brought Gwen._ “I don’t really know where to start.” 

The faintest remnant of a smile crossed her face.  “Do either of us?” 

For a moment, he almost  chuckled.  Catching himself, he ventured, “So...Morgause.” 

“Yes.” Morgana clasped her hands together, twining her fingers nervously. “She...She was stalking me, I think, long before the earthquakes started. I told myself I was overreacting; I had so much else on my mind...Then, in the middle of the chaos, when I was trying to get somewhere safe...She kidnapped me and my son, told me things I couldn’t believe at first, said that I would understand in time…” She glanced towards the house, taking a couple steadying breaths. “The memories returned in dreams, mostly...of course they did...and the more I remembered, the more things did begin to make sense. And the more terrified I became.” 

Arthur frowned. “And Mordred...He truly remembers nothing?” 

“He doesn’t have the actual memories, but...he listens. And Morgause wasn’t shy about talking in front of him. So he knows more than he should, responds to his old name…” Morgana laughed bitterly. “I kept forgetting to call him Matthew. I should’ve protected him better…” 

When she trailed off into preoccupied silence, Arthur said, “You were in Tamworth Castle for an entire year?” 

Nodding, she said, “Yes, just about. At first, Morgause expected me to run away, so she kept us under close guard...Then when I started to remember everything, and refused to join her, she put us in the dungeon. When Mordred got sick, she didn’t heal him, even though I know she could’ve...I think she wanted him fragile, so if I did manage to escape, I’d be hindered by him...I would never leave him behind.” 

“I can understand that.” _Why am I not surprised that Morgause was willing to leave a child suffering to achieve her own ends?_ He imagined someone treating Llacheu that way and shuddered. “What is Morgause up to, exactly? Do you know?” 

“Not the details; she never trusted me enough for that.” Morgana’s flickering gaze finally held his. “But I do know that she’s part of some coalition of sorcerers, old ones who regained their memories before everything fell apart. In fact...I’m certain they had something to do with it all.” 

“Old sorcerers? Reincarnated ones, you mean?” 

“Yes, ones who want power, revenge...The only name I’m sure I heard as being involved was Nimueh...She was a High Priestess who, well…” 

“Died when Merlin got her struck by lightning, yeah. I heard that story.” Arthur rubbed his hands over his face. “So a group of evil sorcerers have come back to life, probably caused an apocalypse, and are, in all likelihood, trying to take over the world while what’s left is vulnerable. In your opinion, does that sum it up?” 

“I believe so.” 

“Just like old times. Except Merlin’s no where to be found. Wonderful. I don’t suppose you’ve heard from that idiot?” 

“Oh, no, nothing at all. I don’t think Morgause and her allies know anything about Emrys' whereabouts, either.”

_ Even better. _ Damn _ you, Merlin.  _

After a pause, Morgana began to speak again, shakily. “Arthur, I...I know you have no reason to trust me, but please believe me when I say...I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry for everything I did, all the destruction and death I caused.” She stopped, took a quavering breath, eyes downcast. “I could say I was scared, living under Uther’s rule, and manipulated by Morgause, and angry for wrongs done to me...and all that’s true. But that’s no excuse for hate, for evil actions...I wish…” Her voice cracked. “I wish things had been different.”

Tears glimmered in her eyes, the remorse in her voice seemed genuine ,  and as Arthur looked at her, he felt  almost  nothing but pity. The anger at her betrayals and the sorrow of losing his sister had indeed faded with time.  _Never to be forgotten, but not to rule the present. If she’s truly sorry for all she’s done…_ “You’re right. The things that you suffered through are not excuses. But they are explanations, and I do accept them.” She looked up at him, and he continued, “I may never be able to forgive you completely, yet I’m willing to give you a second chance. Mordred, too...He’s just a child now, after all.” He hesitated. “You understand if we keep our guard up?” 

“Of course; I would expected nothing less.” Rubbing her eyes, Morgana said briskly, “I’ll have to prove myself. So if there’s anything you’ll let me do, any task, however small...I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever it takes to show you I’ve changed.” 

“Well, you could start by apologizing to Gwen and Lancelot for the hell you put them through with that shade business...then to Leon for that short-lived first reign of yours…and to Percival for his family…” 

“And Sir Gwaine? Elen explained to me about his wife…” 

“Right. That.” Gwaine had finally returned to the training field a couple days earlier, and Arthur remained cautious around him. _Barclayns tend to be loose cannons._ “I’d wait for him to approach you for that; I’m not sure that he won’t kill you if he sees you up close. Besides, Cleva did know what she was walking into...It’s not like you wanted her dead.”

“But I still caused her death.” Seeming to deflate, Morgana whispered, “I have so much to atone for…” 

“So did I, once. And I learned that you can’t get it over with in one fell swoop. You have to find a place to start and take it from there, one step at a time.” 

_Forgiveness can be like that, too._

Their gazes met again, and for the first time in far too long, the Pendragon siblings exchanged smiles. 


	17. Chapter 16

Walking into his current home to find it filled with people was the last thing Arthur expected or wanted after a long day spent training and then debating with the other members of the Town Council. All he _did_ want was a warm bath and perhaps a nice relaxing cuddle with Gwen before going to sleep, but he realized that relaxation was out of the question the minute he walked in and had a candlestick narrowly missed colliding with his head.

“Haralda!” Gwen shouted from the doorway to the kitchen. “This is _my_ house and I will not have you throwing things!”

“It’s _my_ house, too, and I didn’t aim at him!” Haralda bellowed from one side of the cottage’s main living space. Standing behind her, Percival looked resigned. “Even if he deserves it!”

On the other side of the room, Everard slapped away his twin’s restraining arms and snarled, “Even if _I_ deserve it? Where the hell have you _been_ , Haralda?”

Hertha, midway between her siblings, started chastising both of them, while Lancelot, Elyan, and Leon watched from the sidelines in apparent amusement, and Gaius and Elen remained bent over a pile of books on the corner table, very obviously trying to ignore the commotion and failing.

The only people seemingly not paying attention were Hayden, who was sitting by a north-facing window and looking out over the moonlit landscape, and Gwaine, who sat halfway up the stairs near the front door, gazing blankly at nothing at all.

Deciding to prioritize, Arthur made his way along the edge of the main room to Gwen. “What is going on?”

“Well, we were having a discussion about finding Merlin and defending ourselves against sorcerers like Morgause, but as you can see…”

“It turned into another Barclayn family fight.” Arthur glanced past her into the kitchen and stiffened when he saw Morgana and Mordred sitting at the table inside. “You invited them, too?”

“I thought Morgana might be able to offer some insights,” Gwen replied. “And where she goes, so does he. She _was_ listening in, but retreated when all _that_ started...”

“Right. I don’t blame her.” He watched as Mordred made a face at something he was drawing and Morgana reached over to offer assistance with a small smile. _She’s a good mother._

A week had passed since he and his sister agreed to a truce, and since then, Morgana had been allowed out and about to perform some simple community tasks around the village, always accompanied by guards. She’d also given many sincere apologies as Arthur had suggested. _So far, so good._

Moving into the kitchen, Arthur smiled when the pair looked up at him. “What have you got there?” he asked Mordred.

Wide-eyed, the boy glanced to his mother before pushing the piece of paper over for Arthur to examine.

_It’s p_ _retty good for a_ _kid_ _his age, actually._ “What a fine-looking dragon! I see you’re still working on the background?” 

Mordred nodded. “It’s going to be a mountain,” he said softly.

Arthur and Morgana exchanged startled looks. _I’ve only heard his young voice aloud once before._ “Well...I’m sure it’ll look wonderful when it’s finished. Do you mind if I borrow your mum for a minute?”

Another soft reply. “Yeah, that's okay.”

Mordred returned to his drawing as Morgana joined Arthur and Gwen in the doorway. The shouting had died down, leaving Percival murmuring to a red-faced Haralda and Everard putting his best “I am a king and above this nonsense” act.  The others just looked tired of the situation.

Taking his chance, Arthur said, “Hello, friends. I see I’m late for a meeting!” 

Everyone turned to him with what looked like relief. “Not too late at all, sire,” Leon said. “How was the Town Council?” 

“Anxious. It’s concerning that the weather this summer, though relatively calm, has not been as warm as is best for an abundant harvest. And if the storms and earthquakes return…” Arthur sighed. “One problem at a time. Any ideas on how to track down Merlin?” 

“Short of kidnapping the Lady of the Lake and holding her hostage...which is an _incredibly_ bad idea for a lot of reasons…none at all.” Elen slammed a book shut and shoved her chair back, standing and going over to lean on her husband. 

“She’s right, sire,” Gaius said. “I don’t know how to find Merlin. A tracking spell won’t work on him...he’ll be guarded against that sort of thing...and we’ve tried to reach out to him telepathically, but none of us have that sort of range...He must be very far away indeed.”

“And we’re also growing more concerned about other magic users,” Lancelot put in. “If what Morgana has told us is true, many enemies of Camelot have risen once more and may find reasons to attack.” 

“Will find reasons.” Gwaine’s flat-sounding voice drifted down from the stairs. “Morgause will be coming for Morgana. Probably hasn’t yet because her sister’s not such a great asset this time around. But she’ll show up eventually.” 

A pause, then Morgana spoke up, voice trembling. “He...I think he’s right. Morgause seems to have much on her mind, but when she gets a chance...I should leave. I’m putting you all in danger by being here…” 

“She’d most likely track us down anyway,” Gwen said comfortingly. “She was a sworn enemy of Camelot, and we’re what’s left of that.”

“Gwen is correct. Morgause and her friends seem to want power over what’s left of this world, and we’d be in their way.” As murmurs of agreement swept through the room, Arthur turned to Morgana. “Besides, we just got you back. Be a waste to throw you out now.” Then, towards the group at large, he said, “Let’s put finding Merlin aside for a minute and concentrate on how we can defend ourselves from magical enemies without him. A few wyvern and wolf attacks are one thing; a powerful sorcerer with potentially undead minions is another. Any suggestions?” 

* * *

When Morgause did make a morning appearance three days later, they had made preparations, mostly alarm spells and various traps. Unfortunately, those did little more than give them advance warning. 

Arthur heard the village church bells sounding the warning from the training field, and immediately sprang into action. “All right, this is what we’ve trained for! You dozen on spear practice, make sure all civilians in the village are indoors! Everyone else, arm yourselves and follow me!”

_I have my knights, but the rest are just ordinary people trying to survive with barely any training, in the grand scheme of things... _

They were still gathering weapons when Elen’s apprentice Ash came tearing onto the field on horseback. “We’re  under attack! Enemies are crossing the channel on their own rafts! Elen’s alarm spells went off…” 

“To the channel!” Arthur shouted, refusing to let panic overwhelm him. “No invading army will take Anglesey today!” 

A roar went up, and he felt a burst of courage. _Amount of training be damned; we’re ready to defend our new home._

His confidence faded when they reached the docks to find Elen and her other apprentice Isla facing off alone against at least  three dozen black-clad  and probably somewhat immortal foot soldiers. Mounted  on a magnificent gray horse before them, silver armor gleaming and golden hair shining in the sun, was Morgause. 

“Elen!” Gwaine called from Arthur’s side. “Get behind us!” 

Elen did back towards the line of Anglesey soldiers; however, she did not move behind them. Isla followed suit. 

In the silence that followed, Arthur became painfully aware of how ragtag his soldiers actually were. _Elyan’s tried to make some armor, but weapons come first...I just wish we...Nonsense, remember Ealdor...though we had Merlin then…_

“Arthur Pendragon.” Morgause’s voice sounded strong and clear. “We meet again.” 

“Indeed we do.” Arthur met the sorceress’s gaze squarely. “You’re not welcome here, Morgause.” 

“Clearly.” She chuckled. “You have something I want, Arthur. Please return it without delay, and no blood has to be shed.” 

_ Ha. Not likely with her track record. _ “Why did you come alone, with just your own guards? Your new cronies couldn’t be bothered?” 

Her expression flickered. “That is none of your concern. Return my sister and her son to me. Now.”

For a split second, Arthur considered it.  _I wouldn’t have to watch her and Mordred’s every move; I wouldn’t have to fear her being so close all the time…_

Then,  abruptly, he remembered a conversation he and Gwen had had just the night before. 

“ _When Morgana returned from her year with Morgause, I think we all sensed that she had changed, that she was hiding things, even if we denied it._

“ _My father denied it most of all.”_

“ _Yes, but my point it: I’ve been spending time with her, and I sense none of that now. I truly believe that...she’s on our side once again.”_

So he answered, “I can’t do that.” 

A hiss from Morgause. “I won’t ask again.” 

“She’s made her choice. So have I.” Arthur took a deep breath. “After all, she’s _my_ sister, too.” 

“Very well then. I will take her back.” Morgause looked to her men. “Attack!” 

The wave of enemies swept forward, and Arthur drew Excalibur. “Stand your ground! Remember your training!” 

Then all dissolved into the chaos of battle. 

A battle they were going to lose. 

Unless stabbed with Excalibur, the enemy soldiers would not stay down. Isla and Ash were tossed aside by Morgause in seconds, and Elen, even with Gwaine protecting her from any other attackers, was no match for a former High Priestess in an even fight. The lights, heat, and sounds of spells crackled over the desperate clanging of metal weapons and cries of the wounded. 

As he saw a teenage trainee fall with a terrified scream, Arthur wondered,  _What have we done? What have I done?_

They were all going to die, Morgana and Mordred would be left to the dubious mercies of Morgause and her partners in evil, and everything that had happened over the past year would be for nothing.

_ In doing the right thing, I have doomed us all.  _

A shadow passed over the scene, a low, dark cloud seeming to foreshadow a swift and bloody end for the “remnants of Camelot.” 

Except clouds didn’t usually roar and breathe fire. 

Most of the fighting stopped as everyone looked skyward at the massive white dragon descending from above. Flames streamed from its mouth, engulfing about ten of Morgause’s soldiers and reducing them to ash in seconds. 

Even as the sorcerer screamed in fury, her horse reared up, tossing its rider and thundering off along the channel’s edge. Another burst of flames, and another group of enchanted soldiers disappeared. 

Shouting in the language of the Old Religion, Morgause pulled herself up and vanished in a swirling cloud of dust. The remainder of her men, seeming to lose their invulnerability without the support of their mistress, began to fall beneath a reinvigorated onslaught from the soldiers of Anglesey. Any that fled where destroyed by the dragon... or by fireballs that definitely did  _not_ come from the dragon’s mouth. 

And when the last enemy had fallen and the while dragon landed in front of the dock, Arthur found himself not surprised in the least when an old, scowling man leapt from the creature’s back. Landing with a loud groan, he began to move towards the group of...mostly...astonished warriors.

Arthur met him halfway, and for a minute they stood still, just looking at each other. 

_I should’ve known this is how it would happen._

“What took you so long, Merlin?” 


	18. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Life, you know ;)  
> Happy (belated) New Year!

“ _What took me so long?!_ ” The aged face of Emrys twisted into a scowl, blue eyes flashing as he shouted, “Better to ask _where have I been!_ All over the blasted world, _that’s_ where! Because does _anyone_ think of the consequences of their actions when they rise from the damned _dead_? _No_! Of course not! Why would they? Just destroy modern civilization and bring back the old order! Let dark magic run rampant! It’ll be wonderful! Everything will turn out just great! Except no one thinks of the _thrice damned nuclear reactors_! Who’s going to make sure those don’t melt down when all the employees die of the plague? _Me_ , that’s who!”

The warlock whirled and began to stomp back and forth, still snarling. “And then there’s all the falling space debris, and the trigger-happy remnants of world superpowers, and all those other evil magic-users jumping on the power bandwagon and all the legendary figures coming back to life all around the world...and don’t get me started on the _impostors_ ! Have you ever tried to have a civilized conversation with someone who’s convinced he’s Genghis Khan? Well, _I_ have, and it’s harder than reasoning with a zombie! Oh, didn’t I mention? Some reincarnated necromancer-turned-gamer-and-back-again over in America thought it’d be a marvelous idea to create flesh-eating zombies and let them overrun the Atlantic seaboard! _Nobody_ has dragon-forged swords over there, let me tell you!”

He spun around to face Arthur again. “And to top it off, I get back just in time to find you...you...you _clotpole_ trying to get yourself killed. _Again_ . How on _earth_ have you survived this bloody long without _me_ in the _middle of an apocalypse_ ; that’s what _I_ want to know!”

Panting, he subsided into silence, and Arthur, trying to avoid “Dragoon’s” most ferocious gaze, looked towards to Aithusa for help. The white dragon, who had grown from the size of a very large wyvern to roughly the size of a house since Arthur had last seen her, looked unperturbed by the display. Gwaine, already standing by his old friend’s side and dwarfed by her foreleg alone, looked like he was trying not to laugh. _Well, that’s nice to see again._

By the time he faced Merlin again, the warlock was pacing once more, muttering about, “impertinent sorceresses” and “fickle weather patterns” and “royal idiots.” _He looks a little weird in blue jeans and a modern wool coat...Shouldn’t he be in robes or something?_ “Um, Merlin…?”

“ _Shh_!” Merlin stopped in his tracks and glared at Arthur again. “I see you at least had the sense to fetch the damned sword. I sensed _that_ from Indonesia.”

_Indonesia? Okay..._ “Uh, yes. We made a bit of a quest…”

“A quest? _We_?”

“Well, me, Leon, Gwaine, Percival, Lancelot, a couple others...Gwen and Elyan were needed here and stayed behind; Gaius, too, but it was a lot like the old days…”

Abruptly, Merlin’s scowl disappeared, replaced by wide-eyed disbelief. He sounded much, much younger than he looked when he asked, “Gaius is... _alive_?”

Arthur blinked. “Yes, yes he is. I think he’s the oldest of any of us to return…”

For a second, Merlin’s face crumpled. “I thought Gwen and the knights, surely...but not…” He shook himself. “Where is he? Where is everyone?”

“One’s right here,” Aithusa rumbled, giving Gwaine a nudge that nearly toppled him. “His sister is just over there with the others, along with Sirs Leon, Lancelot, Elyan, and Percival. Greetings, old friends; it has been a long time!”

Arthur looked to his soldiers to find that most of them, terrified, had moved many meters back from the docks, dragging several of the wounded with them. The exceptions, of course, were those who had been alive in Camelot; they responded to Aithusa’s greeting in kind.

Somehow, that cleared Arthur’s head enough for him to remember that there had just been a skirmish, and those usually required cleanup. “It is wonderful to see you again, Aithusa, but we have injured people here and…”

“Understood.” Snaking her head towards the crowd of alarmed Anglesey soldiers, Aithusa opened her mouth and breathed what appeared to be a fine mist over them. After a stunned pause, several amazed exclamations began to erupt from several people.

The dragon pulled back and let out a satisfied sigh. “There. Some still need medical attention, but I can promise that none of them will die from their injuries this day.”

She was right. In fact, the battle had resulted in no casualties, only a few very close calls. Those were swiftly transported to the clinic by their uninjured companions, where Arthur witnessed the only reunion Merlin seemed to be able to focus on at present; everyone else had to settle for a general hello and a sarcastic comment each on the way.

The instant Merlin saw Gaius shouting instructions at the other medical staff, his age literally melted away, leaving him physically almost as young as he had the day he arrived in Camelot. “ _Gaiu_ _s_!”

The physician turned towards Merlin’s voice, his face registering first shock, then pure joy. “ _Merlin_!”

Arthur felt tears in his own eyes as the most powerful sorcerer in to ever walk the earth all but ran, sobbing, into his old mentor’s welcoming arms.

High above, Aithusa, who had offered to scout around the island for signs of Morgause, soared through a clear, bright sky.

_Everything will be okay now. Merlin’s back._

* * *

After his initial breakdown, the warlock pulled himself together split the rest of the day between helping out at the medical center and doing much better with reunions.

Each knight got a tight embrace and a demand that they explain their return to the land of the living. “I’ll be honest; I hardly imagined that the reincarnation of Camelot’s heroes would go quite like this!”

Lancelot got an extra hug, presumably for the horrid circumstances of his “final” death, and when Merlin found out about Cleva...Arthur ended up being the one to tell him...Gwaine got an extra one, too.

Gwen came running when she heard about Merlin’s return, and within seconds of their first hug, they were laughing and chatting about how weird the world had become and how Arthur still had no self-preservation instincts. She also wanted assurance the Llacheu had died a peaceful death, something Arthur had been too afraid to ask about, and both the king and queen felt much better upon hearing that their son had died quietly in his sleep. “He was always a hothead,” Gwen said with a sad smile. “I was always worried that he’d get himself killed in some battle or other.”

Naturally, the council of Angelsey had concerns when it came to the “mysterious magic man and his giant dragon.” Arthur did his best to put them at ease, aided by the many Anglesey soldiers who came forward to assure their leaders that Merlin and Aithusa had saved all their lives. It worked, at least for the moment.

So that night, after securing the settlement as best as they could, most of the reincarnated from both Camelot and Bernicia were able to gather for a late dinner at Arthur and Gwen’s cottage, where they did far less eating than they did talking.

There certainly was much to talk about.

Upon seeing Morgause, Merlin had guessed something of the situation and was not surprised when Arthur revealed Morgana and Mordred’s presence in Anglesey. The warlock said, “I blame myself in part for the paths they both went down. I’m wary still...I can’t say much in the past thousand years has improved my opinion of a human’s ability to change...but if you are willing to give them a chance, Arthur, so am I.”

Arthur pointed out that he’d actually just fought a skirmish over that very subject, and Merlin seemed to revert to Dragoon for a minute. “That’s right, you did. Idiot.”

He told them of Camelot’s downfall under Llacheu’s useless son, and of the centuries of turmoil and change he’d witnessed. They told him of the experiences that had led them to Anglesey, and especially of the quest for Excalibur.

“Freya wants you to visit her, when you get the chance,” Arthur told Merlin with a grin. “Been neglecting your girlfriend, have you?”

“Shut up, clotpole. And don’t give me that look; you’re technically not a king anymore and can’t tell me off!”

And finally, _finally_ , they got the answer to the biggest question of all: What had caused the apocalypse itself?

“I’ve sensed things, put others together, and the answer is clear,” Merlin said heavily. “A number of reincarnated sorcerers...and perhaps a few entirely new ones as well...upon regaining their magical talents and memories, banded together and decided to bring back the ‘good old days’ of the Old Religion. Only, they’ve chosen, for various reasons, to ignore the most important part of such magic.”

“Which is?” Lancelot prompted when Merlin fell silent.

Her head just outside the open living room window, Aithusa stated, “ _Balance_.”

“Exactly,” Merlin said. “I’m not certain how, at least not yet, but they found every hidden magic spell and object they could and awakened the sleeping magical essence of the Earth itself. As you saw, it did not respond well to their meddling.”

“What’s their plan now?” Leon asked.

“They all have their own priorities, I expect.” Merlin snorted. “Mostly, like any _fool_ , they want power over what’s left of the world. I doubt they are closely united at this point, but we shall see. I have not had the chance to identify them all yet.”

“I have some ideas,” Gaius said, “if it could be anyone from our era who is returned.”

“I’m just glad we may have Morgana on our side this time,” Gwen said. “But what about the rest of the world?”

Waving his hand languidly, Merlin replied, “There are other heroes handling their own villains. I say they’ll manage until I hear otherwise. We have our own monsters to fight.”

It was nearly dawn when everyone disbanded to get an hour or two of rest. Arthur followed Merlin, who intended to spend the day “running an errand” with Aithusa, out of the cottage. “You’ll be back soon?”

“Of course! Can’t leave you alone just when I’ve found you, can I?” Merlin grinned at him. “You really missed me, didn’t you, _prat_?” Then, sobering, he added, “I know I missed you.”

“Yeah.” Arthur pulled him into a long hug. “I missed you, too, my friend.”

When they pulled apart, Merlin scoffed and rubbed his eyes, grumbling, “I thought I’d gotten less soft over the years, damn it.”

Laughing softly, Arthur met his best friend’s striking blue eyes and said, “You know, we’ve realized for a while that there might be a war coming. But I couldn’t imagine fighting it without you.”

“Well, why _would_ you?” It was Merlin’s turn to laugh. “You wouldn’t stand a chance!”


End file.
